


Faith

by Chocoryuukishi



Category: Ar tonelico, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD Sans, Post-Pacifist Route, Psychological Drama, Recovery Sans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-26 15:36:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 47,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6245473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocoryuukishi/pseuds/Chocoryuukishi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faith...<br/>It's an essence of the soul, a quality to believe, or place one's trust in something.<br/>When you believe in something, it becomes easy to find the determination to accomplish any goal set towards this belief.<br/>Faith is an innate essence that monsters are able to express easily, and has ties to magic.<br/>From the tests I ran, it's the most effective natural way to instill and maintain determination within a monster without needing to inject it.</p><p>How this is done without dissolving a monster's corporeal form is still subject to further research.</p><p>Out of the many triggers I've tested to activate this natural mechanism, the most effective method I've discovered is through song.</p><p>I must seek further evidence behind this new essence.<br/>It may be the only hope for our salvation without having to hurt anyone.</p><p>In an effort to seek his own freedom after having thought he'd lost it, Sans rediscovers his old research notes and digs deep in an attempt to discover a lost legacy that every monster once took for granted in ages past. In an effort to discover the truth and gain closure from the past, he slowly unearths a conspiracy that threatens to undermine the freedom of monsterkind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. hopes and dreams

A loud snore pierced the morning silence throughout the house, as the morning sun had just peeked through the peaks beyond. In the kitchen, Papyrus hummed busily to himself, grinning toothily as he fixed breakfast in a white shirt, brown pajamas and a green apron. Content with himself, at the back of his mind he made a mental note to wake his brother, as he'd always done every day like clockwork. His spirits seemed higher than normal, but he didn't mind. It was a Monday, and he had to go to work. He used the extra boost in mood to get through the day. _I'm sure the human children would like it_ , he thought, as he whisked a light batter with one hand in a bowl with the other.

Much had passed since the freedom of monsterkind, and it was never a dull moment for the skeleton brothers as they and their new family faced a brave new world together. In the years that came and went, Toriel finally achieved her dream of being a teacher, working at a local elementary school. She later found herself appointed to the local educational board to be an ambassador to young monsters desiring an education. Asgore spent most of his days running a solo gardening and landscaping business, as well as writing in the hopes of sharing valuable knowledge about monsterkind to everyone who'd be interested in reading them: the life of a warrior-poet, if you will. Undyne became a gym teacher in the same school as Toriel. She had to start somewhere, but she had dreams of starting her own dojo, rearing to introduce her own unique training regimen to any kindred spirits out there. Meanwhile, Alphys became an apprentice researcher, studying human biology. The university that took her in hoped that she would share her knowledge of monster biology in turn, but she'd been reluctant in doing so. Instead, most of her off-time was spent running a Mew-Mew Kissy Cutie fanclub within the local campus.

As for Papyrus, a love for working with children suddenly became a gig at the Montessori wing in the same school as Toriel and Undyne. If he had to start somewhere as a mascot to the human ambassador, the best way he could begin is with human children. The Great Papyrus was popular with the kids, and quite literally, he was bathed in a shower of kisses whenever he came out to play with them during recess and lunchtime. The skeleton savored every minute of his job, and took his calling in stride.

Trials and tribulations abound, as the humans reluctantly tolerated the monsters, and the monsters slowly left the comfort zone of their own kind, five years sped by so quickly and Papyrus barely noticed it until he saw how tall Frisk had gotten. Standing next to each other, the human child finally stood nearly a head taller than Sans, much to his chagrin. Since then, Papyrus made a concerted effort to look at the fridge calendar every morning so he could pace himself as he went through his daily routine, enjoying what lot was given to him with his freedom. Despite the apprehension and funny looks he receives on a semi-regular basis from the humans around him, Papyrus is ever optimistic on how things will turn out. _Things will get better. The humans will eventually accept us with time, I'm sure of it!_ , he would often tell Sans.

And he would scoff.

Speaking of Sans, Papyrus wished he could say something happy about him. Granted, the brothers fooled around whenever there was a time and place for it, but outside of that... he had a feeling that Sans... hadn't really changed much since they've left. Sans would toss around his horrible puns, wisecrack, and seem as happy as he'd always been, but something about it didn't feel right to Papyrus. There was a nagging feeling of insincerity whenever he'd hear Sans say yet another pasta pun at him, and he'd react predictably to them, acting the same skit thousands of times before. Perhaps it was a brother's intuition, as he looked into Sans's eyes from time to time. Something about them seemed off, and it would worry him. Papyrus often shifted such thoughts at the back of his mind, ever optimistic and hopeful that his brother will soon get himself out of the rut that he'd been in for a long time and find his own way to happiness, but given the length of time, it's just not possible to fool oneself with these kinds of thoughts anymore.

_Well, I hope today's going to be different._ Papyrus thought to himself, as he pumped mental fists onto himself in an effort to be peppy. _He made a promise to fix himself up, didn't he?_

Finally setting the bowl down, he laid down a pan and turned on the range, drizzling the surface with enough oil just to coat it. It was going to be a short while before the pan became hot enough to cook. Turning around, he entered the doorway to the living room and made his way upstairs. It was only before he reflexively touched the wood of the door to Sans's room with his knuckle, that he was vividly reminded of what had happened the day before. As the events played out in quick succession in his mind, he hesitated, sensing the general unpleasantness of their situation. Though he would describe it, Papyrus thought it best to let the memory sink in a little further before he's ready to face it again. He couldn't afford to feel sour in front of the children.

_Maybe this isn't such a good idea..._ the skeleton thought hesitantly, as he mulled over waking up his brother. _I'll just leave a note out for him when he gets up._ His routine was ruined, and his mood felt a little spoiled at that point, but he forced himself to keep on smiling anyway. Moving his knuckles so that the wrist was facing him, the wristwatch on his arm pointed at 7am. He had to finish making breakfast and take a shower real soon. Sighing, he went back downstairs. _Looks like I be eating alone this morning_ , Papyrus thought dejectedly.

In that same space at the back of his mind, Papyrus wondered if he could truly believe his brother’s promise this time around.

* * *

  _An audible smack could be heard by everyone within earshot, as they stood at a scenic ledge up on Mt. Ebott, amidst the setting sun. Asgore, Toriel, Alphys, Papyrus, and Frisk watched in astonishment as Undyne slapped Sans across the face, knocking him off his feet and on his bottom, his elbows touching the ground so that it looked like he was half sitting up. His eyes were downcast and hollow, his usual grin a grimace instead. The corners of his mouth twitched, his facade of a grin having peeled away._

_"Look at yourself," she began, steadfastly controlling her temper as she spoke at the stout skeleton, clad in his usual pink house slippers, black basketball shorts, blemished white shirt and ratty blue hoodie, her glare as loathsome as the force of the slap she gave him. "You're a fucking mess. Five years since we left this hunk of rock and you might as well have stayed there for all we cared." Toriel's eyes shifted away from the scene before her. Normally, she would admonish Undyne for her choice of words, but given the situation, she was just as desperate as Undyne was in getting through to the skeleton._

_At this point, Sans would've made up some sort of lame joke to diffuse the situation, but he didn't. His eyes remained hollow, gritting his teeth as the corners of his mouth trembled, not knowing whether to grin or grimace._

_"What have you got to say for yourself?" Undyne asked rhetorically. "While we're all busting our asses trying to make a respectable living and look good to the rest of the world, you're either sitting on our couches, eating our food, or working some shitty job you can't keep." she spat on the ground next to him. "It's pathetic."_

_"W-what Undyne meant to say was--"_

_"Shut it, Alphys." the mer-creature glared at the yellow lizard, chiding her as she hunched over, fidgeting with her fingers in between Asgore and Toriel, who had her arms before Frisk's shoulders. "I don’t want you mincing words here." she pointed a resolute finger at the human child. "Take a good long look at Frisk." she hissed, emphasizing her vowels. Slowly, the stout skeleton turned his head towards them, his eye sockets remaining hollow. Frisk, saddened, looked away. Sans did as was told, and noticed how tall they'd gotten. Frisk didn't have the sweater anymore, but instead wore a white long-sleeve and a red short-sleeved shirt on top with matching blue jeans, their feet clad in black hi-tops. It's funny that all this time, he'd never really noticed how much Frisk had changed... or maybe, perhaps, he denied himself that reality, pretending that things were always as they were since the human had fallen down. "You're a smart guy. I don't need to say anything else for you to get it." she paused naturally, in an effort to let her words sink in. "The question is, when are you going to grow up? How are you going to move on?" there was a breeze, as silence fell onto the mountain like a dark cloud over them. As the sun continued to embrace the valleys beyond, long shadows were cast onto them. Sans's seemed like the longest one, as he continued to lay there, the corners of his trembling mouth steeling themselves as  they eventually decided to push themselves up to form a grin._

_Sans laughed, his white pupils coming into view. It was a long and bitter one, starting as an inaudible titter until it became loud enough for everyone to hear around him._

_"move on, she says." Sans cackled, sarcasm tainting his voice. "saying it like she actually gets it... quick, tell me more about how if i just kept trying, i just might finally meet my dreams!"_

_Papyrus, standing next to Asgore, had his arms crossed. This predictable reaction from his brother annoyed him, and he finally felt compelled to say something, stepping forward to give out his two cents. He couldn't stand to see him like this, using his humor constantly to deflect the situation at hand._

_"I've been very patient with you for the past five years, brother." he said sternly. His brown wool coat over matching slacks gave him an air of authority, but the red scarf gave off a certain endearing charm to it. It was a quality of Papyrus that can never really change, and his brother knew that. It irked him that Sans was never really going to take him seriously. "I've done everything I could to support you, but now... now, you have to make a choice for yourself. We've all made our choices, and we're waiting on you to make yours..."_

_"like what? play with human children?" he turned his head towards his brother, his grin remaining fixed. "frolick in the fields, play tetherball and get showered with kisses? sure sounds goddamn easy, being little funny old me." the laughter gradually disappeared as Papyrus stood there, glaring back at him, his stance unwavering. He'd had enough at this point, and in the back of his mind, Sans knew. But... he couldn't help it. He had to keep the mask on. He had to continue the song and dance. He had to keep playing the fool. He did all this... to protect everyone. To protect his brother from the horror of it all. The horror that soon, it'll all be over. Soon, they'll be back at their cozy little house in Snowdin. Sans gets to keep his filthy little room and Papyrus gets to remain blissfully unaware that they'd ever been up here in the first place. The five wonderful years we'd spent up here? Poof, all gone. We'd then all obsessively wait again for the day the next human comes so we can finally take their soul so we can go free. None will be the wiser... no one will ever be._

_Except him. Maybe he'll forget the details, but he'll know a reset when he saw one. It was as sure as the tense feeling he'd always had in his bones every time he woke up._

_"Sans..." Frisk had an arm on their opposite shoulder, as they watched their friend suffer in the distance. They couldn't help but contribute to the conversation as well. "Y'know... Mom would say things to me about you when I asked, but I didn't realize until now, how bad it's been for you." they paused for a moment. "For what it's worth, I wanted you to be happy, despite the mistakes I've made. I hoped that, maybe, you'd move on from all this, but after so long, don't you think you've had enough?"_

_"yeah..."  his pupils disappeared again. Slowly, Sans got up on his feet, his back to the sun and the ledge in front of them. Dimly, he set his hands inside the pockets of his hoodie, and glared at the human, his hollow eyesockets and artificial smile giving off a nasty, intimidating air. "yeah, i've had enough, alright? if you'd like to do me a favor, kid, now's the time you should be doing a reset. you can get your happy ending much easier that way, and i'd be much happier for it. pap too."_

_Silence fell once more. Undyne, though initially frustrated, relaxed her arms as her clenched fists relaxed, wondering what the heck Sans was talking about. Similarly, everyone else was just as puzzled as she. This was it, Sans thought. I finally blew the cover right open. It was only a matter of time now._

_"Sans? What's this about?" Alphys inquired, but she was met with silence._

_"I'm not going to do it." Frisk said. More silence followed._

_"you owe me this much, kid." Sans growled, grimacing again. He was done with the mask. Though from time to time his friends had seen him in low spirits, this was probably the first time he'd ever shown such a raw side of himself. It was like tearing a bandage off a freshly-scabbed wound: it hurt Sans as well to reveal himself as he was. He hoped that in a fit of mercy, the kid would end it so they didn't have to see him like this. To see him on the cusp of vulnerability. Sans wanted to salvage what was left of his pride, if there was any..._

_"Sans?" Alphys inquired again, to no avail._

_Frisk shook their head, their face expressionless. "It's over, Sans. This is it. This is real life. No more games."_

_As the words entered through Sans's head, anger that he'd never felt for a very long time ignited itself at that very moment. He felt his breath quicken, and sweat formed where his brows would be._

_No more games? Since when did you decide there'd be no more games? When did you ever decide when all of this is going to be over? You think it's that easy to make a decision, kid? Do you take me for a fool?!_

_Try as he might, he was unable to control this feeling. Panic and desperation set in. Maybe fear...? His left pupil flashed a bright blue as an array of monstrous skulls materialized out of thin air to block out the sunlight, their mouths aiming at their general direction. If Frisk wasn't going to reset now, he was going to make them. The astonished gasps and confusion gave him a sort of glee while he did it._

_"H-hey... Sans?" Undyne piped in as well in an attempt to get through to him, but there was no response. It was as if the skeleton was in his own twisted world now, where they didn't exist._

_"it didn't have to end this way, you know." Sans said, as if he was saying goodbye, reattaching his grin as he gave the human a wide-eyed glare. "i didn't wanna do it, but here we are, right at the deep end... if you know what's good for you, you'd end it now."_

_"Brother... what are you doing?!" Papyrus cried out. Apprehensively, Toriel's hands set themselves alight with flame and Asgore summoned his trident._

_Frisk said nothing. They didn't stir in place, and was unwavered by fear. Their lips curled into a smile. It was a simple smile, seemingly void of any ill intent. What kind of smile was it, Sans thought. Was it a triumphant smile? Did the kid still have the upper hand on me? No, that's impossible! Here I am about to pulverize us off this rock, and they have the gall to smile at me?!_

_"w-why are you smiling, kiddo? don't you realize you're about to die right here, right now?"_

_"SANS, STOP IT!" Papyrus shouted, dashing towards his brother as the skulls began to gather a massive amount of white energy._

_"Papyrus, no!" Asgore cried out, fearful for his sake as he ran after him. Soon, everyone except Frisk was headed towards Sans's direction, intending to subdue the skeleton and protect the child. As Sans was about to snap a finger to signal his thralls, and just before Undyne could reach out to subdue him, Papyrus wound back an arm and hooked Sans across his left cheek. The stout skeleton's concentration broke as he fell in a heap face down, not far from where he stood, his arms breaking most of the fall. Papyrus didn't mean to put a lot of strength into his punch. He knew his brother was frail, but didn't realize how much he'd grossly underestimated that fact._

_The beastly skulls vanished like dust in the wind, and the sun was in full view once again, now halfway down the valley. Everyone else stopped their pursuit, as Asgore's trident vanished and Toriel's hands became cold again. A collective sigh of relief was made._

_"nnrgh..." Sans stirred immediately and struggled to get back on his feet, rage continuing to drive him, but he was quickly turned on his back and pinned down by Papyrus, whose pelvis sat where his ribcage ended as his hands clamped down on his arms. As Sans gazed up, his eyes met Papyrus's tear-streaked face._

_"You're not going to hurt the human." he said, speaking slowly and calmly, his voice quavering slightly. "I won't let you."_

_"you don't get it... you don't get it at all..." Sans clenched his teeth, snarling. "i have to do this. i have to, or else... or else..." he was becoming more and more incoherent as his anger continued to boil._

_"Or else, what? Sans, listen to yourself!" Papyrus paused, as he felt his brother struggle under his weight. "You need our help. We need you to talk to us. You can't bottle this up forever. Look at what it's doing to you. You were about to kill us all, for God's sake!"_

_"i'm fine, dammit, i'm fine... i don't need anybody's goddamn help..." with the last of his strength, Sans struggled and strained as hard as he could. "so help me god LET ME GO RIGHT NOW!"_

_"Please, Sans! I'm begging you!" Papyrus cried out once again. "Please..." tears streamed down his long face, falling onto Sans's cheekbones as Papyrus began to sob quietly. As Papyrus's arms trembled from the heaving, Sans's rage was quelled as the last of his strength was sapped away, and immediately after, a wave of guilt washed over him. He hated more than anything to see his brother sad, to see him cry. It was his one and only job to keep him happy, and he'd failed. How can he call himself a decent brother if he couldn't keep Papyrus happy?_

_Cursing himself, Sans was astonished that his own unbridled rage made him blind to everyone's presence around him. He'd completely forgotten about his friends and family. He thought he could afford not to care. He thought he was scaring the kid out of the goodness of his heart, so they can bring things back to the way things were. He thought he was protecting everybody by forcing Frisk to reset. He'd been so used to captivity that deep within him, maybe he actually enjoyed the routine. He enjoyed the safety of knowing the things that have happened, that is about to happen, and that will happen in the future of each loop. He enjoyed the predictability of his surroundings and excelled in knowing what made his fellow monsters tick. As long as he knew what was about to happen, whether the outcome was good or bad, he knew back then that any effort he put into anything wouldn't matter either way in the end. Things would rewind themselves and play out over, and over, and over again. Sometimes it would hurt, sometimes he would cry, sometimes he would insult the human, and sometimes maybe he'd die, but he'd long since become numb to such feelings, and it all just fell into place as part of the routine, like an actor in some sick, twisted play, accepting the futility of having to fill a role._

_But the role had long ended its part. When the end of the script was reached and everyone had gone home, Sans continued to play his part, singing and dancing, improvising and improvising until his voice and his legs gave out and he couldn't sing and dance anymore. Acting was the only thing he ever knew, and he'd become very good at it. So good, that he doesn't even know who he really is anymore._

_In the depths of the mess that was Sans, he'd forgotten what it's like to be free, and the freedom his life now held only served to terrify him. In the surface world, his actions now had potentially irreversible consequences, and so being lazy or harboring a nihilistic philosophy didn't fly anymore. He had to rediscover himself and his new purpose, but it hurt. It hurt whenever he had to look inward, to wade into the murky swamp that housed his soul. He didn't want to look. The last time he tried, countless sleepless nights came and went as sheer terror took his soul hostage, and it took every fiber of his being to keep it hidden from everybody._

_As soon as he began to hate, as soon as he began to feel, he'd become what he truly was: a very frightened animal. A base creature with nothing but instinct to motivate oneself._

_Sans wanted only to crawl up and die. As Papyrus continued to sob, Sans stewed inside with regret, his eye sockets remaining hollow in the sunlight as he tried to fight the tears, his jaws and fists clenched tightly as he wallowed in self-deprecating misery._

* * *

Sans awoke groggily with a start, struggling to force his eyes open. The clean white ceiling came to greet him, but instinctively, he expected the worst. He expected the light to come from behind him, and worst of all... he expected snow. He expected to be back in Snowdin, in his filthy room with the tornado of trash, the heap of dirty socks, the crappy treadmill that he never used, and the dead flashlight inside the lamp on the table beside him. He dreaded the thoughts, and he dreaded that time and time again, this was the first thing that came to mind to him. It was a learned behavior that eventually became a primal instinct every time he awoke. When he finally found the courage to sit upright, a window greeted him to his left, and he watched as the sun shone brightly in the partly cloudy sky, reflected at the windows of the houses across the street. He sighed a sigh of relief, but it didn't help much.

Sans put a palm on the cheek where his brother had punched him. It didn't hurt, but by touching it, he was reminded of the stinging sensation of it and the trauma that followed as his head hit the ground. The pain cut deep into his soul, knowing that his very own brother had to punch him to snap him out of whatever twisted trance he was in. Recalling the words that Undyne said yesterday, he didn't blame her for being frustrated with him. _She was right. It's been five years. It was about time that I'd gotten over this existential crisis and did something worth living for_ , he thought. But, still... no matter how many pep talks he received, the dread simply wouldn't leave him. It casted a shadow wherever he walked, taunting him that nothing he will do will ever be worth it. If Frisk was to be believed, even without the threat of a reset anymore, lingering feelings of fear and doubt remained to haunt him time and time again. It prevented him from opening up, from being vulnerable. It suffocated his desire to be honest and open with the people he was supposed to call his family. Aloof was a word that would consistently describe Sans.

The night terrors continued to be a regular part of his life. The anguish of losing his brother and everyone around him, the pain of the knife that was slashed across his chest, the dreams of white, gold, and red were always as vivid as if he'd just experienced them then and there. Filled with fear, he often found himself waking up breathless and alert, his spine so rigid it hurt to relax reach time. At the increasing rate of sleepless nights that he was having, Sans doesn't think these dreams will ever end. In rare mornings, a restful, dreamless sleep was the only source of genuine joy he ever got, and he made that very clear to his brother whenever he left his room to go down for breakfast, smiling and joking as he'd always been.

In the last few minutes, he'd noticed that Papyrus hadn't barged into his room or coaxed him awake. It seemed unusual, and yet, normal. His dear brother had finally grown up. He'd lost track when. He'll still be silly whenever it's appropriate, but he'd grown up. He now works at the Montessori in the same school where Tori is teaching. He'd found a love for human children and realized turning it into a job would be a win-win situation for him. Sans grinned to himself, proud of how much is brother had achieved. Making his brother happy used to be his full-time job, but now that he'd sought his own happiness, his role had become diminished to a degree, and he couldn't help but feel useless as a result. Maybe if he had a hobby, he wouldn't be feeling this way.

Tired of wallowing in further self-pity, he smacked his cheeks together with his palms, chiding himself.

"c'mon. it's time to stop this." Sans told himself. "it's a new day out there, sans. you made a promise to pap, remember?" in an effort to commit to his statements, he leapt off the bed and put on his slippers and fixed his shirt, leaving the depressing darkness of his room to go to the kitchen to get a bite to eat.

When he arrived, there was already a stack of pancakes on the table. The butter and syrup sat right next to the plate near the chair with its back to the backyard window, also gleaming with sunlight.

Sans recalled of fonder days when all his brother would ever make was spaghetti. It was... interesting how many different flavors Papyrus could muster with the same food. From time to time he was able to pull it off, but other times he couldn't. He got better over time. Beyond Undyne's training, surface world cooking shows happened, and the rest was history.

Next to the plate was a note. Curious, Sans shuffled over and picked it up, reading the contents.

_Sans,_  
_I, the Great Papyrus, wish you an excellent good morning._  
_Because my pancakes are irresistible, I've served you an extra helping to help you with your day._  
_I also made a decree to Grillby that you will be taking a day off today._  
_The Great Papyrus implores you to go outside and smell the flowers, for it is a wonderful thing to do on such an occasion._  
_I will be home later this afternoon to regale you with heroic tales of my greatness._  
_May this lift your spirits on your long road to happiness._

Sans chuckled. His notes weren't as hammy as it used to be, but he's trying, at least, to maintain the image for his sake. He put down the note and sat down, helping himself to his brother's irresistible pancakes.

* * *

_When the brothers finally calmed down, everybody had had enough. The mood had changed drastically. A dark cloud hung over the entire family, and no one spoke a word for a long while. Alphys and Undyne approached and embraced each other tightly, as if it had been their last, knowing what could've been had Sans gone through with what he did. Asgore approached his ex-wife carefully, and when she didn't stir, he came closer in order to inquire if she was alright. Knowing that she was shaken up by the event, Toriel looked her ex-husband in the eyes, as if giving him the permission to comfort her, which led him to embrace her. It had been ages since they ever touched each other like that._

_Papyrus got off Sans and proceeded to approach the two pairs, concerned for their safety as well, leaving Sans alone as he sat up with his back against the rest of them, listless and broken, his eye sockets still hollow, the edges damp with stifled tears. He felt as numb as ever, disassociating himself from the gravity of the situation, and refusing to give in to his feelings once again. He settled on pretending that nothing happened._

_The sun eventually disappeared into the valley, leaving an indigo trail across the stars. As Undyne looked up to see the view with Alphys, it left a bittersweet feeling within her. As her gaze shifted to the stout skeleton whom she'd slapped earlier, the bittersweetness had soured and became a seething hatred for a person whom she previously thought of honestly as a friend. A friend who had the propensity to kill without realizing it. Sans had become dangerous, and this danger is something she can't afford if she's also going to risk losing everything she loved._ _Noticing her expression, Alphys moved her lover's gaze away from him and towards her, and she shook her head slowly. Undyne smiled weakly, as if understanding her._

_"Undyne, Alphys..." Papyrus approached them after having momentarily approached Toriel and Asgore, remorse evident in his expression. Though she wanted to, Undyne couldn't bring herself to hate Papyrus for what had happened. It wouldn't have been fair to him to associate him with his lazy brother. "You guys alright?"_

_"We're fine." Alphys responded on Undyne's behalf. "Thanks for checking up on us." she quickly looked at Undyne, then back at Papyrus. "It's been a long day, and we both have work tomorrow, so we'll be going home now. You're gonna be alright with him?" she shot a glance at Sans, still unmoving from his position._

_"Y-yeah. I'll be fine." the tall skeleton forced a smile, as if unsure about his own safety with Sans. "The great Papyrus will always be fine. You two take care of yourselves now."_

_"I have something to say before we go." Undyne finally mustered the will to speak, meeting eyes with Papyrus as she scowled. "You tell Sans that he better stay the hell away from us."_

_"Undyne!" Alphys glared at her partner, but she was unfazed._

_"If I ever see him within twenty paces of me or Alphys, I'm going to kill him." malice was evident in Undyne's voice as she spoke. "Do you understand?"_

_Papyrus froze after hearing what she said, but shortly after, resigned himself to the reality of her statement, his eyes downcast. "I... I understand. I'll go tell him."_

_Without another word, Undyne turned and left immediately, with Alphys crawling behind her, as they made their way down the mountain._

_"My child, you stay away from him right this instant!" Toriel broke her embrace for a moment to admonish when she saw Frisk approach the stout skeleton. Frisk turned their head to smile back at her._

_"I'll be alright, mom!" Frisk shouted back, ignoring her request as they approached Sans until they were right beside him, within his earshot. Toriel stared apprehensively, her body warming up in case she needed to cast fire magic at any given time. Asgore turned his head and watched with similar apprehensions._

_As Sans stood in silence over the darkening scenic view before him, Frisk opened his mouth to speak._

_"I don't expect you to forgive me for what happened in the past." the human said. "I've thought long and hard about what I've done."_

_Sans said nothing. He looked down on his left sleeve and used it to wipe away the dampness lingering in his eyes._

_"I hoped you would've picked up on it when I didn't reset for a long time, but I guess I'd been dense for thinking that."_

_If Sans had to compliment the kid, it was that they were strangely very perceptive for their age, and wise beyond their years, at the cost of being very soft-spoken, introverted, and a frequent target for bullying. If any good came out of their adventure in the world of monsters, it was that they'd become remarkably resilient, and it showed as they easily brushed off every fight, every snide remark, every misunderstanding made by their peers. Frisk was certainly filled to the brim with determination, and it's a trait that made itself obvious whenever you looked into their eyes every time you met them._

_"I don't think it's ever easy to forgive and forget. I didn't expect you to, and I never will." Frisk paused. That last statement sounded cold, but it felt necessary to say. "If you have to change, do it for your brother. He never stopped believing in you, have you ever noticed that?"_

_Of course I knew that, Sans thought. Papyrus was there for him right from the beginning, but even if push came to shove that he'd also be there for his own brother, he wondered if he could continue to promise that, being the unbridled mess that he already is._

_"I've said what I needed to say." Frisk concluded their speech. "I need to go back to Mom. She needs me." the human child left his presence, leaving him alone once again._

* * *

Taking Papyrus's advice, he took a morning walk out in the neighborhood. Even if it's for a fleeting moment, the food filled a hole inside him, and he was satiated. He strolled the sidewalk in his socks and pink house slippers, wearing his usual ensemble: a clean white shirt, black basketball shorts, and the same blue hoodie he'd worn every day, worn through the years. He hadn't bothered to replace it, and of the few things that served to keep his sanity, his choice of clothing was one of them. His hands were in his hoodie pockets as he walked slowly, with only his thoughts to occupy the time that his brother granted to him.

A reprisal wave of regret washed over him as he replayed the events in his mind of the day before. He only wanted nothing but to apologize to everyone for his rash behavior, but who was he kidding? He tried to kill them. You can't just come out the day after, waltz up their door and set things right with an "i'm sorry", after pulling a stunt like that. It was pretty obvious everyone was shaken up by what he did. Despite rarely ever showing that side of him, Sans fucked up and lost himself, and as a result he'd alienated his entire family. It was just like he wanted it, right?

Right?

No one had to nag him anymore about shaping up. No one had to pester him about being honest anymore, either. No one had to keep reminding him of the new reality they're facing, and there would be no more interventions for his sake. He'd had enough of their meddling. He just wanted his old routine back, waiting for the world to end as he scraped by day after day, doing as little as possible and denying himself the pleasure of his freedom.

But without them, the thought left him with a gaping emptiness that couldn't be filled. An aching sort of loneliness throbbed within Sans's heart, and he couldn't stand it. The only reason he'd held on all this time was because of them. To throw it all away was nothing short of stupid... retarded, even for Sans. Though he was never one to be gushy, Sans loved his new family. He'd have moments with them that sometimes aren't great, but his feelings for them never changed. If anything, perhaps time had changed his family, but not him. They would worry, and Sans would make empty promises to change, but nothing would come out of it. When even his brother isn't sure whether to believe in him anymore, something needed to be done. _If you have to change, do it for your brother. He never stopped believing in you_., Frisk's voice echoed inside him. If they put it that way, then it seems that he has no choice but to do something about himself. Something had to be done, if it meant winning his brother back, and, by extension, his new family.

He just didn't know where to begin.

The skeleton eventually wandered into the neighborhood park which was about three blocks from their place. It was pretty large, with a baseball diamond, a soccer field, and a playground neatly affixed in a rectangle, with a running path around it decorated with trees. When the diamond or the field wasn't being used, people used them as greenspace instead to lay out mats, hold barbecues, and lie out in the sun. Sans made a mental note to himself to start one of those barbecues someday... if they still wanted anything to do with him, that is. He made his way to the playground, which was empty. He felt a sense of relief in that, because for a while now, despite his usual jovial demeanor, the neighborhood kids and parents had yet to get comfortable with his presence, and they made it known that he wasn't welcome in the playground for that reason. In the distance to his right was a swing set. All that walking tuckered him out, and he thought about sitting down. Holding onto the chains of an empty rubber seat, he propped himself up onto it. The axles where the chains were attached at the top squeaked, rusty from the elements but otherwise functional. Without putting much thought into it, he kicked off the dusty ground and let the centrifugal force take him.

_Creeak, creeak, creeak..._ the axle squeaked in rythmic harmony as he kicked off harder and harder whenever his feet swung past the ground, until the force was too great to require further pushing. A feeling of simulated weightlessness took him, as the view of the jungle gym ensemble in front of him became near and far with each swing and wind-back, shifting the weight by kicking his legs forward to gain momentum. Besides walking, eating, sleeping, and driving a scooter, he hadn't done much else in terms of physical activity. Kicking his legs forward served to tire him out very quickly, and soon enough, he stopped, letting the force decay on its own as he continued to swing, his mind idle as his thoughts creeped back to the question that Undyne posed for him. He closed his eyes.

_First thing's first... what am I gonna do with my life?_ Sans wondered. It was very unlike him to ever give this any thought, but if he had to start somewhere, answering Undyne's question would be the first thing he needed to do. Concentrating through the weightlessness, he reminisced of a time since the barrier was broken. In the course of time since then, he remembered hopping through hurdles upon hurdles of red tape within modern human society just so he and his brother could obtain the legal status to exist in the surface world. It was a pain in the ass, and it took about a year, in which time they'd stayed back underground to pass the time. Things remained as simple as they'd been, as Sans winged through life as he always did, lazing about, caring a little as possible about what happened next. Sitting in one of his sentry stations, he remembered seeing a series of strange machines scattered throughout the area. Alphys had made teleporters within each section of the underground to provide a decent commute to the monsters who'd finally been given work or student permits. As the monsters struggled to get used to the new way of life being introduced to them, Sans remembered reclining in his little station, his feet up on the table, chuckling to himself. _It'll all be over soon._ , he'd tell himself. _When the kid finally resets, this mess would be all over before it began._ Everyone would be back to their old routines, none the wiser about any of this.

He remembered seeing the shift in monster society over time, hearing the monsters look at things optimistically, despite the fear and trepidation that weighed heavily in their hearts as they sought a new beginning in the surface. He'd sit in his usual stool in Grillby's drinking ketchup, chatting up patrons, and racking up his tab, to hear various rumors about a friend or a family member who finally go the go-ahead to move out and settle, or some gossip about some monsters being attacked by some human anti-refugee group who didn't want them there, or some good news about monsters traveling to places they've never heard of before. Sans would scoff silently and drink his fill, wondering why they even bother trying.

However, over time, the air seemed different. Snowdin seemed different, as people became merrier and the fires became cozier. New Home felt like a heavy cloud had dissipated, and what was once empty buildings and lifeless streets was suddenly a gush of a multitude of colors. Young monsters returned from the surface after a period of separation from their families and brought with them many different things from the surface world. Gifts, language, culture... they painted the city with new ideas, bringing over a new age with a new perspective in life, where monsters were more free than ever to pursue their heart's calling. Papyrus, who'd spent a lot of time training with Undyne and away from his brother, loved the newfound energy and often found himself in the middle of all the merrymaking and revelry as holidays were named, new traditions were formed, and monsterkind seemed generally happier for the freedom that was given to them. Papyrus began to form ideas that Sans never realized he ever had before, or well, thought that he'd ever act upon. He, like the young monsters who've returned, became high on a drug known as ambition.

Then the fights began. Papyrus would express a desire for something more than what his lot in life provided. He wasn't content with being part of the Royal Guard anymore. There was no reason to have a Royal Guard anymore. There was something about Papyrus's childish innocence that faded away that day, and it terrified Sans. It made him want to put his brother's very essence into a bottle and lock it away so that the rest of the world didn't corrupt him any further. Sans would demand what exactly his brother wanted in the hopes that he'd continue to be the sole provider, and Papyrus would have no clue what to say. He wanted a purpose and a calling of his own: incorporeal things that Sans will never be able to provide for him. Knowing that the conversation had ended into a stalemate, Sans would storm off in a bad temper and slink away to Grillby's where he'd drink more than his usual fill. This exchange found itself happening at least twice a week, and Grillby made it known how displeased he was with his presence and his behavior, kicking him out from time to time as an implicit reminder that Sans needed to take care of himself.

By the time the brothers got their legal status, Toriel, Asgore, and the kid were already on the surface, and Undyne and Alphys had received theirs a few days prior. Grillby was already gone, and so was the pub, leaving Sans to sulk in the forest instead with a ketchup bottle in hand after his usual fights with Papyrus. Monsters who were given legal status were provided with temporary subsidized housing until they were able to stand on their own two feet financially. Undyne and Alphys were ready to pack, taking with them their new hopes and dreams, and Papyrus was about to get started, packing his own. Sans did so reluctantly, but he had no hopes and dreams to bring.

He had none to begin with.

"Sans?"

The skeleton opened his eyes. The swing had stopped altogether, and he was just sitting there, his hands still gripping on the chains. Frisk stood before him with a smile on their face, towering over him with his height. The kid was all grown up now. Who knows how long it'll take till they double his height altogether?

Before Sans could open his mouth to speak, a wave of conflicting emotions washed ashore inside him. They coalesced into the sticky grey goo of resentment, sticking to his ribs like a tumor. He opted to bottle it in, as he always did in situations like these. He gave the kid a wry smile.

"'sup..." he uttered, nodding weakly. It was very unlike him to be soft-spoken. He wasn't in any mood to put on his mask today. There was no point. Everyone had seen how despicable he truly was, and it's not something he can live down. At least, not easily.

Frisk was about to go for the swing next to him when they quickly glanced back at him.

"Can I?"

Sans took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down as awkwardness seeped into him.

"knock yourself out."

_Creeak, creeak..._ Frisk put their weight down on the rubber seat next to Sans. When the kid was in place, they pushed off the ground weakly, swinging gently. A wall of silence formed between them for a while, until Sans decided to open his mouth again.

"you have school today, don't you?" Sans opted for small talk, staring at a distance, refusing to make eye contact with Frisk.

"Yeah," the human child said, matter-of-factly. "It's recess now. I thought I'd sneak out on my own before coming back." they continued to swing gently. "I like this place. It's nice and quiet."

"yeah, it's nice." More silence. The swing continued to creak as it swung around its axels. Questions formed around Sans's head, and soon, he resumed speaking.

"how's tori?" he asked Frisk.

"Mom's alright." they responded. "She's still shaken up, so if you wanna talk to her, I'd wait a while."

"thought so..." he thought about what to say next, but an apology crawled up this throat instead. "i completely lost it back there, kiddo. i... i'm sorry you had to see all that yesterday."

"You don't have to apologize if you don't mean it." Frisk stopped swinging, turning to smile back at Sans. "I'll understand either way."

"have to start somewhere, don't i?" Sans sighed, chuckling nervously as he scratched the back of his neck, a little relieved with himself for trying.

"Fair enough. Water under the bridge, regardless." Frisk paused before speaking again. "How's Papyrus?"

Sans shrugged. He didn't have an answer.

"I see..." Frisk seemed downcast by the response. "I'll call him tonight to see how he's doing, then." they hopped off their seat, turning to face Sans again, who hadn't moved an inch since they showed up. "You look bonely. Wanna come with? I want to show you something."

Though initially stunned, Sans couldn't help but smile and chuckle a bit at how the kid was able to pun with such a straight face. He appreciated their efforts to cheer him up, as it was usually the other way around. "i dunno, kid..." before he could say anything more, Frisk was tugging at one of his arms. "whoa!" he stumbled forward, and before he knew it, he was holding the kid's hand as they led him out of the park running.

He didn't understand. Why did Frisk forgive him so easily? Did he really deserve to be forgiven after all that? He could barely forgive himself. This was all too soon for him, but at the same time, he felt like he needed this. He wanted a sense of normalcy back. Even if it's for a brief moment, he wanted to pretend like things were as they used to be before everything went to hell.

Frisk continued to run as Sans barely kept up, his slippers almost falling out of his feet a couple times. After about a minute of continuous running, Sans started huffing and puffing, and his nonexistent lungs felt like they were about to burst.

"s-stop... kid... i'm... about to..." he tugged his outstretched arm hard as he fell to his knees, struggling to gasp for air, his head spinning. Frisk stopped to turn around, realizing what he just did.

"Oh! I'm so sorry..." the human child caught themselves in the middle of a rash decision and apologized. "Guess I got carried away, huh?"

"no... no, it's... i'm fine." Sans struggled to get up on his feet again. He immediately realized that his regretful train of thought disappeared from the little workout, and was glad he was distracted. He gave a weak smile, but this time, it was coming from a genuine place in his heart. "just bone-tired is all."

"Of course you are!" Frisk held their hand out again. "C'mon! One more block and we're there. I need to work you to the bone, after all."

"heh... yeah." reluctantly, he held on again as Frisk bolted, dragging him along. Before Sans knew it, Frisk immediately turned right and they entered a small stone arch, reaching a larger area with a simple, grassy courtyard. Sans immediately fell to his knees on the soft green grass to catch his breath. He looked around and saw a tall, symmetrical building at the end of the courtyard a half-block away, covered in white paint and dotted with long, brown stained glass windows. Right down the middle, a steeple was sticking out of the gray-shingled roof with an odd-looking cross at the top, seemingly the prominent centerpiece of the entire structure. Sans didn't recognize the significance of the iconography.

Though it was barely audible, Sans could hear singing voices coming from the open double doorway. It sounded very tranquil.

"what is this place?" Sans asked the human child, as he got onto his feet again.

"It's a church." Frisk explained. "There are many kinds of churches throughout the city. I think they're pretty cool." earnestly, he began walking to the doorway, gesturing his skeleton friend to come along. "C'mon, you should see it!" Sans followed.

The spacious hall inside was a sight to see. The ceiling bore long, wide beams to support the roof, dotted with simple electric chandeliers. Long benches made of polished wood were laid out in rows on both sides of the center lane, marked with a long blue carpet that covered the lacquered hardwood floor, gilded with yellow fabric and matching tassels. The sunlight glimmered and streamed through the stained glass windows all around the walls, giving off shades of various colors until they mixed towards an amber color as they hit the sufaces of the interior. Right in front of them, four rows of tall human males in various shapes and sizes stood at an angle facing them, wearing long, flowing white robes much like the ones that Toriel used to wear, holding big books in front of them. They appeared to be the source of the singing, as their mouths moved in almost perfect unison, moaning out a strange, yet tranquil song. At a distance in front of them, a bald man in a tight black garb stood behind a lectern, waving his arms languidly to the flow of the voices. As Sans stood there and listened, he felt a glimmer of inner peace well up in the corners of his dark heart. He wasn't sure how to describe this feeling, other than that it felt warm. He began to glance around his surroundings once again.

Behind the choir was a blank white wall, with the same strange cross that he saw up in the steeple, only it was the color of polished wood, just like the benches. As he took in the view of the church interior, the light that shone through the windows reminded him of the Judgement Hall, with its divine light illuminating the golden tiles and columns through massive stained glass windows bearing the Delta Rune, laying bare the sins of anyone that dared walk the steps to the king's throne.

"weird song they're singing." Sans finally felt the need to muse. "but it's calming, i'll give them that. know what they're singing about, kid?"

"Nope." Frisk shook their head. "One of my teachers told me that they're speaking a dead language." they walked to a row on the left, a distance away from the altar area where the choir was, and sat on the bench. Sans followed, sitting next to them. "I usually assume they're praising some kinda god. That's the whole point of a church, isn't it."

"hmm..." Sans didn't wholly buy it. He noticed a wooden beam behind the bench in front of him. He propped his feet up onto it, and reclined slightly, putting his palms at the back of his head in an attempt to get comfortable and put his mind to losing himself to the strange song, closing his eyes again as he did so. At least, it was better than being preoccupied with negative thoughts for the rest of the day.

As he read into the syllables, the changes in pitch, and the general harmony of the choir, he began to notice, despite the peace and tranquility that layered the surface of the song, how sorrowful and remorseful it was. It was as if the choir was singing the song to ask for forgiveness, but to whom they were asking it from was lost to him. As the song progressed, he noticed that the words seemed to repeat from each other, alternating between stanzas. It formed into some kind of phrase that he'd never heard before.

Humans sure are strange if they still sing with a dead language...

_Kyrie eleison,_  
_Christe eleison,_  
_Kyrie eleison,_  
_Christe eleison._

They would stretch the vowels and drive the phrase up and down a couple octaves, but somehow, each stanza felt different. Sans could identify the emotions that erupted from each stanza as they poured into him: joy, sadness, sorrow, calmness, and uncertainty. As each emotion registered, somehow, Sans felt something inhibit him from feeling each one to its full extent. Any attempt to try pained him: a sharp, unpleasant, and familiar reminder of the animal that was within him that would become unchained should he keep trying to feel. It was a pain he'd neglected for a long time because there was no reason to treat it. However, given the circumstances, the time finally felt appropriate to address it, and he'd taken note of that.

Then, as they elongated the last syllable, it resounded with a feeling of hope. Hope was an emotion that Sans hadn't felt in a very long time. It was pleasantly warm, yet stately and respectful. It inspired and led, yet caressed and comforted. It shone with a light that was brighter than most positive emotions he'd felt, though he hadn't felt much of those in a long while. He tried not to force himself to feel it, as he let this emotion settle within him. He didn't want to ache again. Anything to let it out again, he thought passively. Soon, a feeling of weightlessness overtook him. It was different from the weightlessness that he felt while he was on the swing earlier. This weightlessness felt natural, and he felt like he was being cradled by a gentle force. It was a nice feeling, and the glimmer of inner peace returned, gradually intensifying as it illuminated the swamps of his heart in a bright light. As it engulfed him, he felt sleep attack him, and before he realized it, it took him away.

As Frisk sat alongside Sans, they heard light snoring coming from their friend. Turning to glance, they saw Sans's arms fall limply on his sides, his head leaning forward uncomfortably with a neutral, disarmed expression on his smiling face as his eyes were shut. They stood up, and adjusted Sans's body so that he laid down on the bench on his side, his head touching the seat. It still looked uncomfortable, but at least he wouldn't be as sore when he woke up. Just as Frisk was about to finish repositioning their friend, they heard the school bell ring from outside the doorway. Recess was over, and Frisk had to head back.

"It's time for me to go, Sans." Frisk whispered close to the skeleton as they gave him a quick peck on the forehead. "Let's meet again soon." they hurried out of the church, out of the courtyard, and into the streets as Sans continued to sleep dreamlessly on a pew in the church: a small comfort for a weary and troubled soul.

* * *

  _Sans sat sullenly on the front passenger seat of the rumbling red convertible as Papyrus silently took the wheel, making his way through the long winding roads of the dark forest. Night had fallen by the time the last of them left Mt. Ebott. Not a word was exchanged until they reached the parking lot at the foot of the mountain. Asgore offered to take Toriel and Frisk home, and without pausing, his ex-wife accepted. As Sans sat quietly in Papyrus's car, Toriel approached his brother one last time, embracing him warmly. A shred of guilt ate at Papyrus's conscience, as he felt he didn't deserve this gesture of kindness. When Toriel withdrew her arms, she noticed it being evident on the skeleton's face._

_"Whatever happened earlier," she began. "It wasn't your fault, Papyrus." she glanced over his shoulder towards his car, where she could make out the back of Sans's skull. He hadn't stirred in his seat. "The least you can do now is support your brother in his time of need."_

_"I appreciate your concern, Miss Toriel." Papyrus responded with a weary smile, as Toriel chuckled a bit at her given honorific. He had his own lingering concerns about Sans, but he didn't want to make her worry about him any more than necessary. "Thank you."_

_"Get some rest. We'll be seeing each other tomorrow, are we not?" she gave the skeleton a reassuring pat on the shoulder before turning towards Asgore's car: a beater pickup truck with a rusty and faded metallic blue finish. Frisk followed closely behind her. When they were both buckled up, Asgore waved goodbye to Papyrus, as he reciprocated in turn. The truck revved loudly and roughly and left the lot, disappearing from view._

_The atmosphere inside the car was chilly to the bone, as Sans was hunched over, pangs of guilt continuing to eat away at him as if he'd committed a murder. He did almost commit murder, after all. He tried to fight the grief that came to him in waves, covering his mouth, moving his face away from his brother, and taking long, hard breaths so it wasn't obvious to his brother that he'd been crying. Papyrus had a feeling regardless, despite being unable to hear anything from the rushing cold wind blowing through the car as they sped, but didn't say anything for his sake. Sans knew what he did was wrong, but couldn't bring himself to be open about it, and Papyrus knew. He had to coax him to let it out, or else he was just going to keep it in until it festered into something pretty bad. For a long time, there'd been a horrible cycle in which Sans would cope very poorly and become self-destructive, so Papyrus needed to be there for him so that he could teach him how to handle his emotions effectively, but usually, very little progress, if any, was made, and any solution to the issue at hand had been short-term and temporary. Trying to be the good brother, Papyrus patiently upheld his part of this cycle for so many years. And yet... he hadn't expected it to go_ _this far. Now that he'd seen the extent of how far gone Sans was, he had enough. If the cycle needed to end. It had to end here and now, so that he can free his brother from the chains that bound him, whatever they may be. He had to change his strategy, for his sake, and his brother also had to start trying as well._

_As they left the forest and entered a grassy plain, Papyrus quickly glanced to see how his brother was doing, but their eyes met. Reflexively, his brother scowled and looked away._

_"don't look at me like that..." Sans growled. Papyrus cleared his throat in response, gripping the wheel and trying to focus on the road instead. It wasn't going to be long now until they reached the city again, and soon, their house. Amidst the awkward silence, the blowing wind through the car, and Sans's occasional heavy breathing, they passed through an elevated highway, as dark skyscrapers towered over them and casting long shadows from the light of the full moon in the distance. Taking an exit, they gradually arrived at ground level, their car dimly illuminated by office lights and wayward signs. In the distance, a billboard for a phone company towered over them, illuminated by bright white lights. The buildings soon became smaller and smaller, until only houses remained. Papyrus turned a left, then a right, and eventually another right into the driveway of a small white cottage. The whole trip had taken around half an hour, and traffic was minimal, if not nonexistent._

_Sans wrenched the door open immediately as Papyrus cut off the engine. He strided towards the door and fumbled with his pockets, cursing just as Papyrus was leaving the car, shutting the door._

_"Brother, wait..." Sans fished his set of keys from his pocket and jammed it into the keyhole desperately, turning it and pushing the door open, neglecting to close it as he stumbled inside. Papyrus rushed after him. As he entered, closing the door behind him, the living room inside became pitch black. Fumbling with the switch next to the door, Papyrus was able to open a small orange light in the doorway, dimly illuminating white walls, the turquoise green tiled floors of the entryway, and the beige carpeting of the living room. Illuminating the distance, he saw Sans standing still at the foot of the staircase, his back towards him. His hands were balled into fists, trembling. Within the silence of the house, he heard Sans's breath shudder and shake._

_"they've abandoned me, haven't they?" Sans asked, his voice quavering. Papyrus gulped, wanting to answer honestly, but at the same time not wanting to hurt his brother._

_"Too much has happened today, Sans." was his response. "They need space."_

_"i almost killed them... why would they want anything to do with me?" Sans sniffled. Violently, he rubbed his nose with the sleeve of his right arm._

_"Please don't say that." Papyrus pleaded. "They're still our friends. That's never going to--"_

_"you're going to leave me, aren't you?"_

_"What?" Papyrus was astonished as Sans turned to face him. Great globs of tears dribbled down his cheekbones as his face was scrunched in misery, heaving as he began to sob._

_"i almost... killed you... pap..." Sans tried to get the words out, but grief took a firm hold of him, constricting his throat as he winced from the pain that he'd been feeling at that very moment._ _Instinctively, Papyrus ran to embrace him tightly, as they both fell to their knees, their bodies against each other. Sans dug his head into his coat, whimpering._

_"please... please don't leave me..." he was barely coherent as he slurred it out between heaves._

_"Shhhh..." Papyrus cooed, attempting to console his brother._ _"The great Papyrus would never dare leave his own brother, no matter the circumstances."_

_"i... i'm a terrible... brother..." Sans gripped at the sides of his brother's coat, yearning for warmth as his body convulsed, each sob sapping energy from him._

_"That's ridiculous." he made an effort to puff his chest out gallantly, even though his brother didn't see it. "You're a wonderful brother."_

_"i'm... so scared..." Sans took labored breaths between each word. "i'm so fucking scared, pap... of myself..."_

_"I know, Sans." Papyrus relaxed his posture once again and gently ran his hand down his spine, patting him softly. "This is why I'm here."_

_"what am i supposed to do?"_

_"We'll talk about this tomorrow." Papyrus said, smiling. "For now, we both need to rest. We'll take things one step at a time from there, sounds like a good plan?"_

_Sans said nothing. He withdrew his head to make eye contact with his brother. As Sans gazed at him with lonely, desperate, tear-streaked eyes, Papyrus returned with a kind, empathetic smile._

_"Before we go upstairs, I want you to do something for me."_

_Sans remained silent, but looked down contemplatively. He was listening._

_"I want you to smile for me. Can you do that?"_

_Sans hesitated, but did as he was told. He pushed the corners of his mouth up and forced a wide grin. His heart wasn't in it, and he felt pathetic doing it, knowing how pitiful he looked as he pictured himself with sad eyes and a wide grin. Regardless, Papyrus beamed back, happy at the outcome, his eyes belying nothing._

_"That's it! Next, I want you to repeat the line 'I'm not a bad monster and I matter to my friends' three times."_

_Sans gulped, breaking eye contact momentarily. He felt childish, but he understood the kind of drill that Papyrus was making him do. He used to do it to him when they were much younger. Given that he was merely taking a page off of the same playbook, Sans was proud that he taught him well._

_"i'm not a bad monster... and i matter to my friends."_

_"Keep going..."_

_"i'm not a bad monster... and i matter to my friends."_

_"One more..."_

_"i'm not a bad monster... and i matter to my friends."_

_"Wonderful! Now, I want you to promise me one last thing." Papyrus spoke a little more slowly as he tried to convey the gravity of his request. "You can keep a promise to your brother, can't you?"_

_His spirits returning piecemeal, Sans nodded._

_"_ _I want you promise me that you will find a way to change for the better." Papyrus looked deep down into his brother's eyes as he spoke. "I can only do so much to help you. More than ever, I want you to try and help yourself. I know you can do this."  he paused, blinking as he reminisced of a fonder time. "I_ _barely remember it anymore, but a long time ago, the Sans I knew had a purpose. He worked towards something, and he had a reason to live."_

_"pap..."_ _Sans couldn't think of anything else to say, other than say his brother's name. Despite his brother's blinking, he saw blips of tears well up in his eyes again, and it saddened him. Despite all that, he didn't break his eye contact this time._

_"I'm not going to ask this of you again." Papyrus continued. "Please, promise me you will change. I want you to be happy. More than anything... I want you to be free."_

_"bro... i..." Sans's fingers trembled. He didn't know what to make of the things he was feeling. Was it fear? Was it desperation? Regardless of what it was, he dug his head into Papyrus, gripping tightly once again, understanding what he needed to do if he wanted to keep his brother, and by extension, his family._

_"i promise."_


	2. a new purpose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used in sequential order:
> 
> Singing Hill -Harmonics TILIA- (beginning part): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iCQ5c2z4hr4

Sans awoke, stirred by something that was pushing against his shoulder. As his vision began to focus, he noticed a soft and warm amber light shine around him. It was bright enough to irritate, but that subsided quickly as his consciousness slowly returned. Half-awake, he shifted his feet off the spot where he'd been sleeping, down to the smooth surface of a wooden floor, as he sat on something similarly pliable. Groggily, he examined the rows of what looked like polished wooden benches around him. A strange-looking cross was affixed dead center on a wall at the far end from where he was, and the amber lights that he saw earlier poured from the stained glass windows that dotted the walls to his left and right. He rubbed his eye sockets until a realization hit him.

He was still in the church. He dozed off, just as he'd been in here with Frisk.

 _Frisk? Where's Frisk?_ Sans thought, panic slowly creeping into his mind as his head darted around the church interior in search of the human child.

"You're awake." he heard an unfamiliar voice speak. As he turned his head to where he heard it, he saw a bald, lanky, bespectacled man standing a short distance from his right, in a form-fitting black garb, with a white square piece tucked in the middle of his black shirt collar. An adult human, his height towered over the skeleton very easily. The persistent creases in his forehead and the slight gauntness of his face showed signs that this person had a good number of years on him, but the smile on his thin lips belied a certain warmth to him that offset his otherwise curmudgeonly appearance.

"oh... uhh, hi." Sans made a concerted effort to be polite to the stranger, straightening his usually hunched back, gripping the ends of the pew with his bony knuckles. "sorry about that. i shouldn't have taken my dirt nap here. i'm not in a cemetery, after all." he chuckled, nervously putting his left arm at the base of his neck. It was then that he realized it was a bit sore. _How long was I asleep for?_ he thought in passing.

The man chuckled lightly, taking in the slightly morbid humor from the skeleton before him. A man of the cloth, he was careful not to judge what looked to be a monster in front of him. It was an unusual encounter, as monsters didn't usually set foot in his church, but regardless of the visitor, he made sure to make them feel welcome. A church is a sanctuary, after all. "You're welcome to doze off any time. In fact, most of the... humans, that visit regularly come here to do just that." the man felt strange at addressing his own kind in that manner, but he'd heard that was how the monsters addressed them.

"guess that explains the lullaby earlier." they both got a decent laugh out of that. As it died down, Sans felt relieved. He thought he was going to get kicked out, but instead he was able to break the ice with an old human. The exchange could've been worse.

 

 

"So you watched me conduct the men's chamber choir earlier, then?"

"i guess so." Sans shrugged. The old man noticed the skeleton fidgeting before him, his head turning from side to side periodically, as if searching for something, his expression slightly tight with worry. "i was here with a kid earlier. you happen to see where they went?"

The old man looked puzzlingly at him. "You were the only one on the pews for most of the day."

"that so?" The kid must've gone back to school without him. They did say that they were only out for recess, after all. Sans took a sigh of relief, and let the thought of searching for Frisk go. The old man saw the skeleton's face relax. "nevermind. your choir sang a lot of weird songs."

"Oh, they're certainly strange." The old man chuckled, nodding in agreement. "They're known as Gregorian chants. We could always choose to sing other songs, but as a church, we have traditions to uphold."

"i liked it, though. don't get me wrong on that."

"I appreciate the compliment." the old man made a little mock bow at the skeleton, but was otherwise grateful. "I fear there are fewer and fewer people every day who can appreciate the complexities of such songs."

"why's that?"

"Erm..." the old man hadn't been expected to elaborate on his opinion in the past, so the question caught him off-guard. He paused for a few moments to give the opinion some thought before responding. "I believe there is merit in unlocking the various parts of the soul through the use of song. Don't you agree?" he opted to turn the question over to the skeleton, in an attempt to gauge his thoughts on the matter.

"hmm..." Sans thought about what he said, breaking his eye contact momentarily as he became unsure about how he should respond to the human. Though he desired a potentially intelligent discussion, a nagging feeling inside him thought against it as he was equally just as unsure about entrusting his own knowledge to a human stranger. He opted to play dumb instead. "sounds about right. i'm not sure how it is for humans, but i'd agree that the statement goes well with monsters." he shrugged methodically. "but i'm not an expert on monster biology, so take my spiel with a grain of salt." that was an obvious lie, but he thought it wouldn't hurt if he tried to misdirect the human on what he knew.

"I see." the old man seemed intrigued by Sans's response. A desire to educate burned inside him. "Either way, when you consider a single piece of music and how it stirs an emotion, why do you think that is the case?" he asked the skeleton, quizzing him.

"beats me. care to explain?" _Wavelengths_ , Sans answered in his mind.

"Wavelengths." the old main raised a finger, successfully taking the bait. "The myriad combinations of various waves compose of a mechanism that alters emotions on a subconscious level, thus allowing us to feel the power of song." he paused, trying to catch himself from becoming too enthusiastic. "Erm... it's a topic of interest of mine. I do apologize if that came all at once."

"s'alright." Sans understood it word-for-word, grinning in appreciation for the little lecture. The old man however, wasn't sure what to make of the monster's expression, as they all looked the same to him.

"A-anyway. It seems there's much I've yet to learn about monsters." the old man said, looking aside nervously. He had a feeling the skeleton knew a whole lot more than he let on, but wasn't comfortable enough to reveal that kind of information to him just yet, the questions he was asking being a telltale sign of one with a sharp mind. He opted not to press further, respecting the monster's privacy, but otherwise felt the conversation draw on awkwardly. "Sadly, I don't see them in this church often, so pardon me if I may have come off the wrong way?"

"nah. i think it's normal to be curious." the skeleton said, maintaining his grin. "actually, if you don't mind me asking... what kinda language did that chant use earlier?" a genuine question had burned in Sans's mind for some time.

The man was wide-eyed, astonished at the extent of what the skeleton knew. Perhaps he overestimated him? "Erm... it's called Latin. It's the very language that formed the foundation of our faith. It has existed in ancient times, when monsters and humans once mingled."

"that so?" Sans found it strange that he didn't realize that fact. Despite recalling the books he read in the Snowdin library, the only other language he could think of that was spoken by monsters in the past were older forms of Anglo-Saxon English. Given the forced captivity of monsterkind, it didn't occur to anyone at the time to keep an older library of books at their disposal. "interesting..." he attempted to distract himself with more conversation for the time being, making another note to revisit that thought later.

"I'm surprised you don't know the language of your ancestors."

"when you're trapped inside a mountain for countless centuries, you're always bound to forget one thing or another." Sans hypothesized, shrugging.

"You've got a point." the old man cleared his throat. "In that case, perhaps you might find value in reading human books on monster history. A different perspective on the same matter can make a lot of difference in one's view of things."

"i just might take you up on that advice, old man."

The old man chuckled again, realizing he forgot to introduce himself. He extended a hand to him, lowering himself to just above the skeleton's height as he sat on the bench. Sans brought out his right hand to reciprocate, shaking firmly in return. In the back of his mind, Sans wished he'd brought his whoopie cushion with him, lamenting at the missed opportunity to prank somebody new.

"My name is Father Robert." the old man smiled warmly as he spoke. "I'm the priest of this church, and I also run various choir groups here." as Robert introduced himself, the awkwardness he felt earlier began to seep away as he began to feel comfortable once again.

"sans. sans the skeleton."

"What a peculiar name." Robert withdrew his hand, chuckling.

"it is what it is." Sans shrugged again. Feeling the conversation fizzle out a little, he looked around again. The sunlight from the windows seemed to cast such long shadows over the benches that he'd been wondering about the time for a while now. "by the way, what time is it?"

The priest withdrew the cuff from his right hand and examined his watch. "It's half past six in the evening." Sans pupils narrowed, his grin fading noticeably. Papyrus was probably home by now, wondering where the heck he went.

"damn, it's late..." Sans put a palm on his forehead, before making eye contact with Robert once again. "hey listen, i really enjoyed this chat, but my brother's waiting for me back home." the skeleton hopped off the bench, putting his hands in his pockets.

"I understand." the old man replied. "I had hoped you'd be willing to stay for our evening service, but priorities with family are always important."

"i might come around again." Sans gave him a more pronounced grin and a wink. "you said you appreciated an audience, didn't you?"

"I would enjoy that." Robert gave him a wave as Sans made his way out, his back near the doorway. "I'll see you soon, Sans."

Sans waved back, as he disappeared out the door, vanishing from view.

* * *

As Sans opened the front door into their house, he saw his brother slumped on the couch, his eyes drooped with exhaustion. Papyrus turned his head and as soon as their eyes met, he perked up, much like a dog coming to greet its owner.

"Brother! You're home!" Papyrus leapt onto his feet. Before Sans could react, he was lifted off the ground as his brother squeezed him into a big hug. Feeling the warmth of his brother's buttoned-up shirt, he put his arms around him as well. It had barely been a day, but both brothers already missed each other.

"you were worried about me." Sans remarked, getting an inkling of a feeling. "you could've called."

 

 

"I did, but you didn't call me back..." Sans noticed a hint of sadness in Papyrus's face. It bothered him, and in the back of his mind, Sans wished he hadn't dozed off like he did so he could've responded to his calls. Despite that, he wasn't going to let his brother be sad again.

"let's go fix dinner." Sans tried to change the subject. "i'll help out this time."

"Oh, Sans..." his brother made an expression as if he was rolling his eyes, sighing. Despite that, from the change of tone in his voice, he seemed happier at his brother's attempt at normalcy. "You and I both know you're just going to sit around and watch."

"yeah, that's true." Sans gave his brother a big grin. "so what are we waiting for?"

Papyrus smiled back and put his brother down. For the next half-hour or so, Papyrus made his usual staple: spaghetti. As the pasta was boiling in a pot at the stove next to him, he spent most of his time mashing the sauce ingredients neatly in a bowl, grunting as he thrust a fist repeatedly inside while using his other arm to hold down the bowl. The apron he was wearing helped not to stain his shirt as he attacked and subdued the vegetables in the bowl. Despite being a better cook than before, Papyrus insisted that some things never change. _Mashing the ingredients with my passion adds character to the sauce!_ , he'd say when Sans asked about it one time. Meanwhile, the stout skeleton was at the dinner table, reading the day's paper, which he took from the coffee table before they went to the kitchen. He'd usually only read the paper for the funnies, or the puzzles, but some light reading might be nice for a change this time around. Casually, he went through the first few pages until a headline caught his eye.

**_Newly-Appointed Board of Education Member Continues Call for Subsidized Education for Monsters in Need_**

_The newly appointed member of the Board of Education, Toriel Dreemurr, continues her crusade for monsterkind by calling for the government to provide educational aid to young monsters in need. Since the unexpected arrival of monster refugees from Mt. Ebott five years ago, the government had made concessions to integrate the unexpected arrivals into human society, with positive results thus far with the enthusiastic cooperation of the Dreemurr royal family, the monsters' governing body. Despite their work, the overall public opinion for the refugees remain at a low, and attacks against monsters have been steadily on the rise, as various supremacy groups have taken to the Internet to voice their displeasure in the government placing priority over whom they've considered "economic and social invaders", when other problems persist for humankind, such as steadily increasing demand for low-income housing and stagnant employment rates. Following an interview, Dreemurr cited the following benefits for complying with her aforementioned request._

_"By providing young monsters in need the education they deserve, we see a long-term investment for their welfare as they not only further integrate in our ever-changing society, but also potentially create opportunities that will benefit everyone, regardless of race or species. Following our freedom, we seek to collaborate and work together with humankind for a more prosperous society free of war and strife, and to do this, we must provide the proper care for those who will be most impressionable to the community at large."_

_The government continues talks to negotiate this matter, and a public hearing had been scheduled at the XXXX Elementary School gymnasium with limited seating at 5:30pm, on XXXX, XX, 201X._

Sans sighed. _Tori_ _sure is worked to the bone with her new job._ If not for his stupidity, maybe he could give her a call and come over to her place to cheer her up after dinner, but that's out of the question now. Shaking aside his regrets, he opted through a few more pages until he reached the editorial section. Skimming through the headlines, he saw various opinions on the status of monsters on the surface thus far. As the previous article portended, they were largely negative. Hesitating a little, he read a couple of passages.

**_Monster Dogs an Eyesore at Local Coffee Shop_ **

_Dear Ed.: It seems that a monster family of dogs had taken up on hogging a large amount of space at the Jawbone near Garland and Seymour. They've been a nuisance to anyone who wants to stay there for more than 10 minutes, and it seems that no one can enjoy their coffee in peace when two of the dogs are smooching in public, one dog is so humongous that he takes up two full tables, one dog won't stop yapping when people kept coming in and out of the store, and the last dog won't give up his seat because he's constantly playing cards against himself._

_If the cops won't touch them, and the people are too scared to deal with them, what's to stop other monsters from asserting their dominance in public areas that are supposed to be OURS?_

**_Stop Giving the Monsters Handouts!_ **

_Dear Ed.: The new Board of Education member, Toriel Dreemurr, runs a noble crusade for her own kind. I can respect that, but let's be real: the monsters need to know their place. We don't just come from one place to another and then demand special favors after a short span of time. People have to work to get what they want, and the monsters should know that's just how it works here. The government letting themselves be pushed around shows that they are idiotic and cowardly._

_If the monsters want something, they'll have to work hard to get it._

"Hey, Sans?"

As he heard Papyrus call his name, Sans immediately put the paper down, appreciating the minor distraction as the paper began to get on his nerves. The fact that the paper was basically page after page of humans bitterly complaining overshot his light reading requirement by a good mile.

"yeah?"

"I've been talking with Miss Toriel--"

"you know she's fine with just 'toriel'." Sans tried correcting him.

"Don't. Interrupt me." Papyrus's voice lowered, punctuating his words to great effect as he stared down his brother. He'd learned a lot about delivery and voice projection from all the fights that he and Sans had in the past. It made him pretty good at holding his own against him.

"sorry." Sans reeled a little. He could feel this was going to be a serious talk.

"Anyway. I've been speaking with her, and I've been thinking it over." Papyrus paused as he picked up a wooden spoon from the countertop, now mixing the same bowl that he'd been throwing his fist at now that the ingredients have been adequately mashed. "She said the king's willing to give you a job to help him out with his business. They figured you having a proper day job with plants might be a healthier change of pace than what you've got now."

"i see." Sans's mind drifted once again to the events that occurred last night, the bits and pieces of it echoing vividly in his mind. _My child, you stay away from him right this instant!_ , he remembered the scathing words that Toriel said to the human child about him. His eyes hollowed momentarily with gloom. "i'll stick to the job i have now." he said dismissively. He was filled with enough shame as it is to face Asgore, let alone Toriel, after he'd just tried to kill them.

Papyrus felt a nagging desire to lecture his brother, but stopped himself short. It wouldn't help their situation to escalate things. It's too soon, and Papyrus reminded himself that he was supposed to make a conscious effort to change his strategy.

"You should think this over, brother." Papyrus implored gently. "Granted, the offer won't pass, but the king will appreciate all the help he can get. Plus, you'll get paid. It's a job, after all."

"mmh... yeah sure." Sans shut down the conversation as quickly as soon as it started, as the events from last night played over and over in his head. He had a knack for brevity that could make or break conversations between them, and it didn't do well to ease his brother's confidence towards him. Irked by his brother's stubbornness, Papyrus quietly told himself to be patient as he worked his frustrations towards the sauce instead. If anything, the desire to admonish his brother was largely for his own selfish satisfaction anyway.

After a brief moment, Sans opened his mouth to speak again.

"hey, pap?"

"Hm?" his eyes shifted from the bowl and back to Sans.

"did tori... say anything about me?"

"Not really." Papyrus answered honestly. Because of her new position, both she and Papyrus only ever meet for minutes at a time at work for brief chats and nothing more. "She wished you well, that's it." the compliment went over Sans, his expression unchanged.

"what about undyne?" Sans normally didn't concern himself with Undyne, but given that she started this whole mess, it seemed only logical for him to want to follow up on her situation.

"I hadn't seen her in school, but Miss Toriel told me she was around."

"seems she's avoiding you."

Papyrus considered the remark for a moment, then shook his head. "I'm sure she's just busy. I'm still seeing her for training this weekend." he was reminded of what Undyne told him last night, and was trying to figure out how to deliver it to Sans as succinctly as possible. "For now, I'd strongly suggest you stay away from her until things blow over."

"yeah. guess i should." it made sense to Sans that of all people, he'd stay away from Undyne for the time being. She probably wanted to kill him for what he did, so waiting until things blow over would probably be a wise thing to do. "i'm already on her bad side. wouldn't want to push things further than they already are."

"Just give it some time, and quit beating yourself up about it while you're at it." Papyrus made a few playful jabs in the air at his brother with the spoon. "You've got more than enough creases on your forehead as it is."

"easier said than done, bro." Sans shrugged as Papyrus set a saucepan on the stove, pouring out the mixture in the bowl into it and heating it up. Subsequently, the egg timer on the countertop made an audible ding.

"Looks like the pasta's done. Can you help me drain them?" Papyrus made a request to his brother. "We'll have dinner ready in a few more minutes."

Soon, the plates were out, and the pasta and sauce were piping hot. The brothers soon sat on opposing ends of the square table, as they quietly helped themselves. When the mood settled, the tall skeleton studied Sans's face as he quietly sat there, staring at his food. The creases around his eyes and at the bridge on his forehead told him he was clearly bothered by something, but due to his usual habit of keeping things bottled up, wasn't coming clean with it. Noticing that Papyrus had been staring at him for some time, Sans took a deep breath and made eye contact, accompanied by a sad smile.

"i know you said i should try and change for the better." Sans began. "i haven't put this much effort into something since, well, forever, and y'know... it's tough."

"I know." Papyrus appreciated his honesty. He didn't even have to poke Sans this time for it, either, even though it took a while. Somehow, he's convinced that he's actually trying this time, and in the back of his mind, Papyrus felt driven to try just as hard. "It's hard for me, too."

"heh... guess that means we're both **suppering** , huh?" though it was very subtle, Papyrus saw some color return to Sans's face, grinning weakly as he punned. He responded with a look of disapproval, but gave a snort shortly after.

"Not exactly one of your best ones, is it?"

"well, i hadn't exactly made any **killer jokes** recentl--" the air suddenly grew dark, as the brothers became abruptly silent for a brief moment. Sans gave a nervous laugh, trying to ease the tension putting his left arm on his neck. It was starting to become a habit for him to do that.

"too soon?"

"Yes, very." Papyrus's eyes shifted away from Sans.

"well, it was worth a shot." the color that was on Sans's face disappeared as soon as quickly as he gained it. The brothers ate again in relative silence, save for the clacking of their cutlery against plates as they gathered pasta into their mouths. They were back where they started.

Several minutes passed, and Sans couldn't stand it any longer, desiring to break the tension again.

"y'know... i've been thinking all morning about what we've been up to since we've come up to the surface." Sans snorted self-deprecatingly, looking down on his food before making eye contact with his brother again. "but all i can remember are our fights. imagine that... i don't recall the last time we've ever had anything close to a heart-to-heart like this."

"Me neither." Papyrus nodded in agreement, forcing himself to smile. "But for what it's worth, I appreciate that you're taking the initiative to open up to me. It's..."

"unlike me? yeah, i guess you could say that." another nervous laugh escaped Sans. "you never really know what you've got 'till its gone, y'know?"

Papyrus gazed at his brother empathetically. "You'll still have me, brother, no matter what happens."

"thanks, bro." Sans felt a weight lift off his shoulders as he spoke more openly. _You know... I'm nothing without you._ He wanted the words to come out of his mouth, but couldn't bring himself to. For now, the act of opening up, even just a little bit, was liberating in itself. However, somewhere in the depths, a worrying feeling kept gnawing at him. It was a familiar feeling, borne from all the times he tried to put a genuine effort into something, only to see it come to nothing, whether due to the resets or his own philosophy on things. It was beginning to ruin his mood, and desperately, he pushed the feeling down. "do you think... i'll ever be forgiven, for what i've done?"

Papyrus put his fork down. He wasn't sure how to answer Sans's question. He took drink from a glass of water and mulled over it for a while for a thoughtful response, but nothing came. "I think... it's too soon for anyone to answer that question." he opted for a vague one.

Sans was crestfallen. "forget i asked." the worrying feeling rose up without further resistance and contaminated whatever shred of comfort he had. Why does this keep happening to him? Did he only ask that question because he expected his brother to say something nice in return? _That's pretty dense of you, Sans._ He chided himself.

"I didn't mean anything bad by what I said, mind you." Papyrus tried to downplay his previous response, as if implying an apology. "Like you mentioned before, it's just way too soon--"

"stop. i get it." Sans dismissed the apology, glowering down at his food as his voice grew thicker. "let's just eat, okay?"

The silence continued as they ate, save for the clattering of their cutlery.

* * *

Another half-hour had passed until dinnertime was over. Papyrus offered to clean things up on his own, excusing his brother to do whatever else he wanted to do for the night, but not without reminding him about the job offer again.

"Please, think this over." he said as he brought the plates to the sink. Remarkably, they were both polished clean. Despite the low spirits in the house, at least they still had some appetite. "I think taking this job is the best thing you could do if you want to regain everyone's trust again."

 

 

"yeah, maybe." Sans nodded sheepishly, scratching the back of his head, his eyes fixed to the near side of the kitchen wall. "i'll sleep on it."

Papyrus nodded in affirmation. As he turned on the water and picked up a sponge, Sans stood there, a thought nagging him to say something.

"hey, pap?"

"Hm?" Papyrus was surprised to see his brother still there. "What is it?"

"i'm sorry. about earlier."

Papyrus sighed, putting the sponge down and turning to face him again, meeting the same sad expression on his brother's face from half an hour ago. "There's nothing to be sorry about asking for closure." he paused. "I just... I can't give it to you now. Prove to me that you can keep this up, and maybe things will change over time."

"right." Sans paused, then forced a grin out at him. "guess i'll have to, don't i?"

"There's just no way around it, brother." Papyrus tried to give a reassuring smile, but to Sans it looked tired instead. "Again, don't beat yourself up over it, and let's deal with these things together, one step at a time."

Sans nodded reluctantly.

"I'll be here if you need me." his brother turned around to deal with the dishes, as the water kept running the entire time they were speaking.

Sans ended up in his room upstairs. Turning on the lights, he took off his slippers and tossed them at a nearby corner, hopping onto his bed, its covers unmade since this morning. He put his hands at the back of his head as he laid on his back, crossing his bare feet as he stared at the white ceiling listlessly. It took a while before his eyes drooped down, and as he waited for sleep to take him once again, the small comfort was interrupted by a shrill ring downstairs, startling him awake. Annoyed, he slumped to his right side, his right hand still supporting his head, his eyes now staring at the nearby wall, coated in a light maroon shade.

"Human! It's you! How are things?" it was Papyrus's phone, and he'd just answered it. _Come to think if it, Frisk mentioned earlier this morning that they'd call to check up on him._ Sans turned his head to the other side of the bed, his shoulders following him, to examine his alarm clock. It was close to 8pm in the evening. _Sounds about right_. Marking the time in his head, Sans turned to his side again, relegating his brother's voice as background noise before closing his eyes again.

He hadn't noticed it in a while, but the worried feeling that was gnawing inside Sans was still there, leading him to doubt whether he can really keep up the effort he's making right now. It's taking everything he's got as it is, and sooner or later he's just going to crash and return to his old habits. He knew this cycle all too well. The only difference is that he's now estranged his own family, and so things aren't going to be the same. Nothing's gonna go back to normal if he doesn't at least try. He's glad that they haven't given up on him just yet, but it's only a matter of time until they finally did. It hurt Sans to reflect on such a hard fact, but to their credit, they've tried and tried and tried. He hadn't. Obviously, it's a factor that definitely needed to change.

But to do that, he needed a good reason. Regaining the trust of his family is one thing, and not wanting to lose his brother is another, but they were such negative motivations for him that they're draining energy from him rather than maintaining it by being spent with worries such as this. He needed a positive influence, but where can he get them, and how? Sans's thoughts swam vigorously in his mind, coalescing into a growing ball of frustration that he had no idea how to let out.

_Believe me, Undyne, I want to grow up. I want to move on._  
_But it feels so... pointless._  
_Why do I feel like all of this doesn't matter in the end?_  
_So what if I make the effort to make amends with them?_  
_Does it really matter to me?_  
_What do I really want in all this?_  
_Why do I care?_  
_What's my purpose?_

Purpose. A long time ago, he remembered his brother giving him a sermon about the virtues of having a purpose. All they were doing at the time was play catch in the park. As Papyrus threw the ball, and Sans caught and flung it back with his magic while sitting on the grass, his brother talked about how a lack of purpose can lead to a dreadfully empty existence. He had the gall at the time to ask what it felt like to have a purpose, and Papyrus lit up, rattling off various descriptions in rapid succession: like a fire inside you, like a car with a full tank of gas, like you could run forever and never get tired, like a kind of clarity that shines brighter than the brightest diamond... he had a way with words as he described such a feeling. Sans had to admit he envied his brother for being so in-touch with himself in this manner.

_"so, that sounds good and all, but..." Sans trailed off as he caught and tossed the ball again, bending back and flicking his wrist forward to reflect the movement of his magic. "how do you get purpose? is it an item you have to pick up and use?" the last remark was stupid, but it was fun to play dumb with his brother. He enjoyed getting a reaction out of him this way._

_"Of course not! Purpose isn't a thing." Papyrus fumed as he caught the ball with his red baseball mitt and tossed it back. "It's a feeling." Sans caught the ball as it hovered in the air, glowing with a neon blue sheen. "You're supposed to feel purpose. It comes from inside you." he emphasized his point by making a fist with his mitt-less but gloved hand, and holding it close to his chest where his soul would be. It looked like he was getting speech lessons from Undyne. Sans wondered if the intense passion she exuded was becoming a good or bad influence to his brother. "But now, to get this feeling? Let's see..." his posture relaxed, as he rubbed his bony chin in thought with the previously-fisted hand. "To be honest, it's not something you feel right away. It just comes when it comes." he looked at Sans, as he continued to hold onto the ball with his magic, listening intently with his usual grin on his face. "However, with that said, I've also found that I discovered my purpose much faster whenever I was doing something I liked." Papyrus smiled as he said it. "Maybe you should try it too! There's gotta be something you like doing."_

_"ehh..." Sans looked aside. "sounds like a lot of work, bro..." mischeviously, he flung the ball back at his brother without warning. "here, catch!"_

_"Nyeehg!" caught off-guard, Papyrus reflexively shoved a hand outward with his eyes shut, bracing for impact. Instead, he felt a pressure on his palm. Opening them again, he saw the ball caught inside his mitt. Though relieved, he couldn't help but shoot a wide-eyed glare at his brother._

_"hey, you caught it!" though astonished, Sans downplayed his reaction by maintaining a lazy tone to his voice, raising his brother a thumbs-up._

_"Sans! You almost hit me!" Papyrus stomped the ground comically as he threw a tantrum back at him._

_"that's kinda the point, bro."_

Sans had to admit the exercise was a lot of fun, and considered asking Papyrus if he wanted to do it again one day.

But maybe, that's it. Maybe he needed to try something new to occupy his time. He needed a hobby to take his mind off the worry, and focus on the things he enjoyed. _Yeah, that's not too bad, I guess. I could try..._ Sans's thoughts paused. He had a hobby in mind. It was one that he did a long time ago. A part of him nagged for a very long time to do it again, but given his laziness, he couldn't bring himself to. Now, it seemed like the time was right. If he had to find his purpose, it was now or never.

_The myriad combinations of various waves compose of a mechanism that alters emotions on a subconscious level, thus allowing us to feel the power of song._ He remembered the priest explain to him about why songs stirred emotions. It occurred to Sans that he'd already forgotten his name. Though it didn't occur to him at the time, the quote reminded him of the very hobby he was thinking about now, as bits and pieces of memories unearthed themselves from the depths, stirring inside him in a blur. He was reminded of contraptions, waves, glyphs, distant voices, hollow faces, various note-takings, translations, late-night excursions, and at the center of it all, research towards the mysterious power of determination.

The memories coalesced into a mysterious figure, clad in a long lab coat, his face a mass of unintelligible static. Whoever this person was, he stood in the way of this hobby. Whoever this person was, he stood in the way of Sans's freedom. He felt a faint spark light itself within the depths of his soul. If a spark can light a flame in one's soul, then, is this what one would call the birth of purpose within?

_I have nothing to lose now if I give it a shot, at least, even if it didn't matter..._ hesitantly, Sans found his resolve. _I have to try. Gotta find your purpose, right, Sans?_

The skeleton mustered the minimum amount of effort as he rolled himself forward out of bed, struggling to stand up as he fell face-down to the floor next to it. For a moment, he considered putting his slippers back on, but shook his head, not wanting to be distracted by something so trivial. With a snap of his finger, he phased through space-time and brought himself into the center of the attic: the topmost floor of the house. He didn't want to bother walking the distance. It was somewhat dark, with only the moonlight shining faintly through the circular window right where the two sides of the roof meet, illuminating boxes, chests, and covered tarp, now dusty and lightly festooned with cobwebs. A small chain was barely visible, hanging off a beam, and as Sans pulled it, a bright orange bulb lit the center of the room like a candle in the dark.

Sans concentrated momentarily, activating his blue eye as the boxes and chests stirred around him.

"now where the hell did i put it?" he wondered to himself as he recalled the contents of what he was looking for. His eyes shifted to the right, and soon enough, the lid of a nearby large trunk lifted open. A smaller, metallic chest about the size of a lockbox floated out of it, unlocking and popping open as it landed by Sans's bare feet. Immediately after, his blue eye subsided, and his eye socket cooled down. 

The first thing he saw inside the box as he knelt down was an old, worn album. Sepia-toned and faded with age, the photos inside were of him and numerous monsters he was fairly familiar with, their names lost on him. He gazed wistfully at it, wondering where the hell had time gone to bring them all to where they are now. He kept flipping through the photos until the last one drew his attention. It appeared fairly recent, its resolution sharp despite it being in sepia as well. It was a group photo of him and his new family, with Frisk standing at the center of it all. They all seemed really happy. In fact, Sans remembered being particularly happy that time. Gazing down at it, it all seemed like such a distant memory now... their current situation a far cry from the scene depicted on the glossy medium. Everyone's face except Sans may as well have been crossed out in red altogether.

Sans perished the thought, putting the album down as he set his mind towards rifling through the rest of the things inside the box. There were various uniformly-folded blueprints in symbols that Sans could read and understand, but didn't have the time to deal with now, as well as loose files made with similar symbols, detailing plans and overviews for various different projects, mostly entailing many different means to break the barrier. They all seemed irrelevant now. No, Sans was looking for something a lot more specific than barrier-breaking technology.

At the very bottom of the box was a yellow-tinted file, worn and frayed at the edges. Reaching in which his fingertips, he felt at its distinct thickness, taking it out, his hands trembling slightly as he did so. On the front flap, a label with the word "FAITH" was stuck prominently on its center, in red marker. Taking a breath of anticipation, Sans opened the file. Inside was a notepad, with rings that flipped over itself, and a series of loose pages and a few stray blueprints, folded about as neatly as the rest of the ones in the box.

Behind the loose pages and blueprints, however, was a glossy hardcover booklet. It stood out from the rest of the contents with its purple sheen, and as the skeleton took it out of the file, the Delta Rune was prominently embossed on the front cover. It was difficult to discern the age of the booklet, as it seemed like it was handled with great care. Feeling a desire to pore over it, Sans leaned at a nearby box to his left, sitting cross-legged as he opened the book with his thumbs, wrenching open the thick covers with some effort, its pages having been pressed tightly together for some inordinate amount of time.

Glyphs littered the pages, set neatly line by line. Circular marks, dots, lines, and stately squiggles made up an alphabet that was completely unintelligible to Sans. He pressed a finger on one of the glyphs, but only felt the smoothness of the paper itself, tracing it across a line of what he would assume are a series of words, sometimes punctuated with an irregularly diagonal line, another squiggle, or a pattern of repeating sequences, like the faint waves on the screen of an oscilloscope.

Like the waves that signify vibration, or that of energy through matter, like sound.

He closed the book and placed it back in the file, closing it and examining it again as he held the hefty article with both hands. His hands trembled at the responsibility that he'd have to face by recommencing the project before him, but if it meant that starting it again would finally give him a meaningful purpose in his otherwise empty existence, then the choice was obvious.

_The question is, when are you going to grow up? How are you going to move on?_

"i'll move on..." Sans whispered his answer. "by finishing what i started, and i'll grow up when i'm ready." as if knighting himself towards a new purpose, he touched the cover of the file towards his forehead, closing his eyes, etching this very moment into his mind as he visualized himself stepping forward into an uncertain future.

"i hope... i'm not making a big mistake."

In the dimly-lit silence of the attic, traces of a song Sans recalled from long ago resounded faintly in his mind, as if he was hearing them...

_Was yea ra hymme EXA_PICO._  
_echrra en hymme omnis ciel,_  
_sor saash!_  
_sor / rol / keenis / sheak_  
_rre ammue chs near_  
_en gyen shen_  
_iem!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a tricky chapter to do. Not sure I was able to portray Sans's motivations accurately and effectively while transitioning to the main subject, but I tried to do my best.
> 
> This chapter was meant to be longer, but I ended up splitting it to two parts instead. Maybe things will get more interesting in the next one.


	3. tgif

**_entry number 1_ **

_all attempts to extract determination from soul failed._  
_old man is devastated. have to pick up slack in his absence._  
_i hate doing work, but i took this job for a reason, so better get started..._

 

**_entry number 2_ **

_was studying components of determination from samples of our 3 human souls when i saw something weird... did we miss something???_  
_\- took sample with clean syringe ~1 inch insertion into soul membrane_  
_\- incubated sample in agar for 1hr._  
_\- 2 drops of essence indicator after_

 _samples colored with dominant essence:_  
_\- sample a was light blue: patience_  
_\- sample b was orange:  bravery_  
_\- sample c was deep blue: integrity_

 _other trace components exist, but no bonds between them... just parts of a whole. sizeable amts. of red determination marbled in each sample. 5mL sample = estimated 1/2 dosage per monster (should we up dosage? not sure of side effects yet, and no experimentation yet either.......)_  
_20x microscope zoom showed determination marbling with teal substance. appears to be bonded together. too small to see with naked eye._  
_in fact, it's not just the determination, but some trace amounts of teal can be seen among other essence components as well. they're even harder to see..._

_50x zoom showed that the marbled teal substance isn't really... marbled, but structured in uniform lattice, forming links with the more organic, scattered determination. each lattice point ended not in standard intersection of two lines, but formed a small triangular loop like this..._

 

 

_what is it, exactly? total headscratcher, that one..._

_in any case, i need an effective way to "hook" determination out of soul w/ DT extraction machine, but the new substance just fucks things up as it's bonded pretty tightly with the determination... like scaffolding. explains why most of the determination disintegrates when extracted. need to talk to ______ about it tomorrow..._

 

**_entry number 3_ **

_______ just as clueless as i am about new substance. asked me to look into it some more. GREAT! MORE WORK FOR ME!!!!!_

_looked at samples again. forgot to throw them out last time. they've long become slightly pale from exposure. as expected from all the previous samples we've taken..._

_took a quick peek at the microscope... 20x... 50x... the teal scaffolding lattice is more visible... red determination seeped away to the corners, like they're afraid. as scaffolding is supposed to work, though the shape of the sample hadn't changed overall. nothing evaporated. the marbled portions where red used to be is now overtaken by teal, holding it in place._

_despite these observations, i have no fucking clue where to begin..._ _WHERE THE HELL DO I BEGIN?! i'm really really lost. i'm done..._

 

**_entry number 4_ **

_ok, weird story... i got bored, and ______ wasn't here, so i thought i'd shoot the shit for a while. old samples still on the table, forgot to throw them out again. next to it was some beakers and test tubes, so thought i'd hit them with stirring sticks = my fancy xylophone set. was hitting them and hit a pretty nice ditty. was slow, but then tried to go faster, and faster, then suddenly the samples were fucking glowing!!! they were glowing a bright teal, i might add. i mean, shit. i had a nifty idea of looking the samples under the microscope again, and wouldn't you believe it? most of the red returned!_

_what does it mean, exactly?_

_from the_ **_sounds_** _of it, i finally have a lead! though, i'm gonna have to say sorry to the king for slacking off... bastard caught me. maybe this experiment is a perfect excuse?_

 

**_entry number 5_ **

  _so... where should i begin?_

_i took another set of samples as a control against the old ones i still haven't thrown out. at this point they're really dry of red and full of teal, and the general color of the old samples are pale from exposure again (did it dry out of their dominant essences too? need to look into this some more...). i set the old samples on top, and the new samples on the bottom of rack, fresh from the source and relatively bright and vivid with color._

_3 beakers: do, re, mi. they're as close to the samples as possible for the best results. didn't go the full scale for simplicity's sake._

_using stir stick, i hit the following combinations at moderate pace:_  
_do_  
_re_  
_mi_  
_do re mi_  
_do re mi mi_  
_re do mi_  
_mi re do_  
_mi re do_  
_mi re do do_  
_mi do re_

_results were gradual, but evident. 1st 3 combs. gave a weak glow. 4th and 5th are stronger, as expected with longer sequences. weird thing is that from 6th onwards, the glow became stronger and stronger... enough to light the surface of the table for a brief moment. no visible change on new samples, but old samples regained some color. did it recognize the tune somehow?_

_i repeated the combination cycle. glow is not as strong, but sustained on new samples, whereas it remained pretty bright for old samples. color slowly coming back and getting close to the original._

_third times the charm. new sample still sustained glow. old samples started to weaken glow as they reached the same level of color to the original. i have ideas already about what happened, but want to take final observations just to be sure. by the end of it, both the old and new samples are almost indistinguishable._

_microscope observations are expected: the old samples have regenerated determination, but also other components as well, like their dominant essence. little to no teal substance on both... guess they all got used up in the process, or somehow, the scaffolding itself glowed to coax some kinda regeneration reaction. have to figure out which is more plausible..._

_that said though, the teal substance somehow... regenerates essences of the soul, and comparing observations with previous entries, the regeneration process is tied to its role as scaffolding to maintain the soul's structure long after the essences dry out. the regeneration process also only reacts with external stimuli... in this case, music. when monsters play and listen to music, the sound_ _resonates_ _in the air from sender to receiver, causing a reaction in response on receiver's part to the music. given a similar reaction, let's also call this..._ **_"resonance"_** _._

_in the end, pretty remarkable experiment, given that at this point, we have much to learn about the workings of a human soul. despite what we know about monster souls, it's possible we can draw connections to gain further understanding about our own souls relative to theirs. at this point, we've much to learn about the teal substance in the human souls to call them any names..._

_if human souls carry this teal substance, i have to wonder if monsters carry them as well. beyond that,_ _i don't have anything else to go on. another experiment is in order to try other stimuli and test their effectiveness. i'll also need to tweak the DT extraction machine to track and extract the new substance as well alongside the determination... see if it'll make the old man happy with the progress, or see if the results are any better. we'll have to see..._

 _in the end, i need resources._ _lots of them. will have to talk to alphys about digging at the dump sometime for books... we might get lucky this time._

* * *

Deep in the bustling morning metropolis, the stale air was drawn inside a vacuum within a shaded, empty alleyway, strewn with grime and wayward trash and lorded over by towering skyscrapers, concrete and brick buildings, housing many offices and shops. Within the center of the invisible vacuum, a blue light flashed, and immediately, Sans materialized, having just taken a shortcut from his own living room moments ago. He adjusted his red bowtie and patted off some residual dust from his formal work ensemble: a white dress shirt with matching black pants tied with a sleek leather belt, getting the feel for the pavement by stomping lightly on his black oxford shoes, which were in grave need of a decent polish. Clearing his throat a little, he casually strode to the metal door before him, pulling it open with some effort before entering a sizeably dinky room laden with cracked walls, a lumpy-looking couch, some stacked broken tables and chairs, a few small lockers, and a metal rack filled with clothes hangers, some of them hung with white kitchen uniforms: clean and sterilized, but irredeemably stained from frequent use. An unpleasant smell hung in the air: a mixture last night's greasy food, cigarette smoke, and stale alcohol, but Sans disregarded it as he strolled past the room and into a larger kitchen area, where the smell was better, bustling with a handful of monsters and humans who barely acknowledged him as they busily prepared various food items in their appropriate stations. There was an air of dignity about them as they swished about in their black kitchen caps and spiffy white waist aprons chopping fresh vegetables, rolling dough, cooking pasta, preparing sauces, and seasoning meats. The skeleton managed to make it to the calmer dining area when he was greeted by a familiar voice.

"Morning, Sans." the skeleton turned his head to the long bar area to his right, to see his fiery old friend and boss, wearing his usual formal ensemble: a black bowtie with a matching vest on top of his crisp white shirt, his long, glowing face decorated with thin, square-rimmed glasses. Grillby sat at the nearby stool, counting the bills and coins on the cash register tray next to him, presumably to record the day's baseline amount. A little further down the bar within arm's reach was multiple stacks of brown napkins and a couple plastic jugs of mustard and ketchup, waiting to be put in their proper places.

The stout skeleton gave Grillby a mock two-finger salute, accompanied by a wink and a pronounced grin.

"another day, another dollar." Sans remarked, putting his hands on his waist. He took in the surroundings of the empty restaurant, with its rows of wooden tables, chairs, booths, and assorted pub decor, the orange lighting giving the place an inviting, rustic feel, just like the very place Grillby used to have in Snowdin, only much, much larger than it used to be. The morning light and the heavy foot traffic visible on the other side of the glass windows surrounding the pub contrasted heavily against the intended mood of the pub, but come evening, the place will look pretty much just like how the skeleton remembered it.

Grillby's had made a name for itself in the past five years amongst the gentrified demographic as a place with great ambiance, and the food and drinks were about on par with the rest of the joints around the block. It became a good after-work hangout within the office crowd, as the pub was smack-dab in the middle of the finance block. Despite the growing pains in having to deal with such an ungrateful crowd of workaholics, at least they tipped well, and the monsters working at the joint considered it a fair exchange. With the recent installation of TVs thanks to its healthy business, Grillby's was slowly evolving from its humble roots as a simple pub, to a middle-end sports bar and restaurant with a touch of class.

"Very much so." Grillby responded, his flames calmer and cozier than usual. The fact that Grillby was willing to humor him must've meant that he was in a good mood today: a slight change from his usually stoic, less chatty personality.

"what's on the menu today?" the skeleton leaned at the bar, his arms crossed as he laid his elbows on the counter, inquiring about orders.

"The usual. Nothing more." Grillby said, matter-of-fact, as his ember-like fingers flitted through the bills, his voice like the crackling of burning wood in a cozy fireplace. "It's a Friday, and it's UFC night, so we can expect a full house this evening. I'll probably need you in the kitchen when you're done your rounds."

Sans whistled. "time sure flies, doesn't it?" the last time he made a conscious effort to track time was when he looked at his alarm clock last Monday, just after Frisk had called to check up on his brother. Everything else after had been a blur, except for the odd late hours every night when he'd been poring over the notes of the Faith file in his bedroom. _Thank God for coffee._ Sans thought, noticing his extremities twitch slightly from its influence, having drunk a record three mugs before waving his brother goodbye as he rushed to work.

"That it does." Grillby seemed happy about something, but Sans couldn't quite tell what it was about until he spoke again. "My daughter's birthday is tomorrow."

"wow, that's great news!" Sans gave him another wink and a thumbs-up, congratulating him. "want me to surprise her?"

"That's quite alright. No need to go that far. I'm glad for your offer, though." his featureless face became a warmer shade of orange. Sans thought of it akin to a smile.

"welp, at least the thought counts." Sans withdrew himself from the counter turned to the direction of the kitchen, putting his hands in his pockets. "in any case, i'll be taking a nap in the break room 'till the orders come." before his feet could move, he caught sight of something at the corner of his eye hurtling at an arc towards him. His hands immediately shot out of his pockets as he held them out reflexively, to receive a couple stacks of brown napkins. They were the same ones that were on the counter earlier.

"Just because I'm in a good mood doesn't mean you get to do less work today." Grillby said, having stood up from the stool and was now strolling towards him, slamming the ketchup and mustard jugs at the edge of the bar before him. "Those napkins and condiments aren't going to fill themselves."

"you're killin' me, grillbz..." Sans hunched over, groaning as he cocked his head in dismay.

"You've barely started your shift, so you've no right to complain." Grillby clapped his hands urgently at his employee, drawing his attention to the matter at hand. "C'mon. I'm opening in thirty minutes."

Reluctantly, Sans slunk off to work. As he went from table to table and booth to booth, stuffing napkins onto the dispensers and untwisting and twisting ketchup and mustard bottles for a refill, his mind naturally drifted back to the Faith file he'd been looking over for many consecutive nights, it really being the only thing he'd been looking forward to at home just to get through most days. If anything, it certainly beat idly moping about his family troubles as of late. He was beginning to find some semblance of a purpose again, even if it wasn't much.

The file in itself was certainly becoming more and more interesting as Sans went over its contents: the ringed notepad, the glossy Delta Rune booklet of glyphs, and the loose pages. When he skimmed over the pages of the notepad, he was able to recognize the writing inside as his own shorthand: brisk and cocky, barely legible as if he barely raised the nib of his pen as he wrote on the surface. It painted a picture in his mind of a carefree youth with ideas and ideals that ached to be shared with the rest of the underground. Back then, it seemed like he worked hard towards something, and it actually meant something to him, even if a little. Sans wondered if he could ever take back those days again, but immediately thought it foolish. There was probably a good reason why he forgot about all this in the first place.

Aside from his own writing, unintelligible scribbles, doodles, and scratchings littered the margins and odd spaces of every other page, making them rather messy to read. Occasionally, crudely-drawn diagrams would be sketched in between sentences, words would be underlined and emphasized with a large circle, and a sentence would have a word or two crossed out with a thick black marker. It almost always had something to do with a name. Sans wondered if somehow, he'd put them in there as an afterthought. Who was this person that he'd want to cross their name out? What brought him to do something like this? Try as he might, he couldn't remember why, or when exactly he'd taken these notes in the first place.

Having already skimmed the booklet of glyphs the night he dug up the file, he looked into the loose pages that accompanied the file instead, and one page stood out for him. It was a piece of graph paper, untitled, but a table was drawn on it. Each cell contained a distinct glyph, with a letter below each one, A to Z, numerals and all, and there appeared to be an uppercase and a lowercase version of the same letter as well. Comparing and recognizing the glyphs to be the same ones that were on the booklet, it looked to be an alphabet table to aid in translating its contents. A quick assessment however, didn't prove to be useful, as the words didn't click to him as any form of English.

 _Was yea ra_ _chs hymmnos mea_ , translated one line. It sounded like some sort of magic spell. Spells, from what he'd had read a long time ago in a musty book on human spirituality, was something that humans used to imitate the effects of magic. It was entirely different from the magic produced by monsters, which was an innate part of their soul's expression: an essential and integral part of their existence. To a monster, using magic was as natural as breathing. To a human, magic required years and years of memorization, methodology, and mastery. It needed to be learned, much like how science required years of careful study. The thought of needing to master magic made Sans shudder, but it made sense. Humans are creatures of determination, after all. With it, they are capable of achieving many feats that the whole of monsterkind combined could only dream of doing. How else, after all, were they able to craft such a powerful seal that kept them underground for so long?

In any case, it would seem like the alphabet table might come in handy, but unless he could figure out a way to decipher what the resulting words meant, he wasn't any closer to understanding the purpose of the booklet and its strange language.

Among the loose pages came a couple of blueprints, written in hands. It had been ages since Sans ever read or wrote in hands, but the ability returned to him naturally as his gaze lingered on each hand glyph that labeled each part of the contraption represented on its grid. Reading each word carefully, he recognized what appeared to be plans for a voice modulator the size of a trombone, and some sort of voice recorder the size of a boombox, with an indicator dial that showed a "frequency"... whatever that meant. What were these devices used for, and why did he need them? Did he already put them together? A thought occurred to him to check his lab back in the underground when he had the time and energy to do so.

Another page was handwritten. It was in his own handwriting, but a lot more legible. He actually made a point to capitalize this time. It looked like some kind of declaration. The contents were as followed:

 ** _Faith..._**  
_It's an essence of the soul, a quality to believe, or place one's trust in something._  
_When you believe in something, it becomes easy to find the determination to accomplish any goal set towards this belief._  
_Faith is an innate essence that monsters are able to express easily, and has ties to magic._  
_From the tests I ran, it's the most effective natural way to instill and maintain determination within a monster without needing to inject it._

_How this is done without dissolving a monster's corporeal form is still subject to further research._

_Out of the many triggers I've tested to activate this natural mechanism, the most effective method I've discovered is through song._

_I must seek further evidence behind this new essence._  
_It may be the only hope for our salvation without having to hurt anyone._

Determination? Song? Salvation? Was all this... just another means to break the barrier? Though it seemed implied, it didn't seem like it was his primary drive for this research. "Our salvation". Sans knew himself to a certain extent, and if there was one thing he wasn't, it was altruistic. If he had to be altruistic, it was for his brother's sake. Everything he did, he did for Papyrus. That was never going to change, so why the strange wording? This wasn't something he'd do, but there was no denying it... the sheet was in his handwriting. Something else was at play here, but what? Try as he might, Sans couldn't think of a good reason why he put all this together in the first place. Why? Why can't he remember? Could he just be overthinking this?

And yet, the shards of memories that returned to him formed together into the silhouette of a tall monster in a lab coat, his head unrecognizable by an obscene mass of static. Who was this person? Was he... a friend? A collaborator? An enemy? Sans tried to dig deep. He struggled to recollect, but it hurt. He felt traces of a migraine come on. He didn't want this to ruin the rest of his day, and he'd barely started, so he brushed the thought aside for the time being, and focused on his work, hoping to find time to reflect on it when it felt appropriate again.

Time went by seemingly quickly by the time Sans was done with his task. Surprisingly, it didn't take him all that long to refill. Forty minutes less, in fact, than the one hour Grillby initially estimated, anyway. As the flaming proprietor watched from the bar after having wrapped up his counting, he was astonished at how much the little lazy skeleton could accomplish when he was concentrated on something, even if it was something as trivial as stuffing napkins and refilling ketchup and mustard. At least, to him that's what it looked like as he examined the tight expression on the skeleton's face. It was very unusual to see him like this. Normally, the skeleton might do a few tables, steal a few sips of ketchup and take a break before realizing he had work to do again. The average was one hour, but at one point, he even took two hours to complete the job. The usually useless skeleton was actually being useful this time.

But given his own good mood, Grillby couldn't be bothered to overthink the details. Whatever happened to Sans, he was being productive, and that was all that mattered after he hadn't come to work last Monday. He had to make up for at least some of the work he'd missed. It wasn't his business as his boss to be concerned about his employee's personal matters, but his concern lingered anyway. They've known each other a bit too long for him to not care entirely.

The rest of the wait staff had come in to finish the job of setting the tables and delegating portions of the floor, as Grillby turned on the Open sign and unlocked the restaurant door. Half the guns were out in terms of staff, but come evening, everyone is expecting a hectic shift with a full roster. With brand-new TVs laid out, everyone's sure to flock to watch the upcoming UFC match at Grillby's.

In the meantime, Sans was delegated to cargo duty, signing liquor and food service shipments and hauling boxes. Given the volume of the shipment, it was clear that the pub was pulling out all the stops to give the best possible impression for its customers.  It was exhausting work, lifting and moving the heavy boxes with his magic alone, and the skeleton was relieved when he was finally called to deliver an hour before lunchtime. With the meals in a thermal bag over his shoulder, he took the pub scooter throughout various blocks in the downtown area to hand them out from office to office.

To Sans, this was the best part of the day.

If the food wasn't the biggest draw of the deliveries, it was the impromptu comedy show after that won over the rest of them. It was one of the few things Sans truly looked forward to with his job. His material was going stale, and he needed some kind of audience to play off of if he wanted to stay on top of his comedy game. Fortunately, there are humans out there with a good taste in his brand of humor. Needless to say, it made decent extra money on the side, and he got more than his fair share of attention with the human ladies alongside it. Who could ask for more? Most weeks, he'd have more than enough business cards with personal phone numbers to shred into confetti for his next birthday party.

The day eventually dragged on at a rapid pace, and before the skeleton knew it, the sun had gone down, the deep orange reflecting through the windows of the skyline as cars struggled to leave the epicenter as soon as possible to beat the oncoming rush. When the skeleton came back to the restaurant, the floor was already packed and rowdy with idle chatter and persistent hollering, the TVs putting on a good show of two bald, half-naked humans duking it out with kicks, punches, and grapples on an octagonal ring. The warm, rustic orange of the lights glowed nicely throughout the pub as the exterior sunlight gave way to the evening darkness. By the waiting area, a line of people had formed with the hopes of getting a spot inside, and waiters and waitresses hustled and bustled as Grillby gracefully gave a decent show of bartending, serving swaths of customers in quick succession from behind the bar, feeling right at home within his comfort zone.

As the fire man concentrated on juggling two cocktail shakers in front of his audience, Sans thought better than to bother him as he went back, through the kitchen, now unkempt and in total bedlam as loud music poured out of some line cook's phone to reflect on the hectic nature of juggling orders, the stoves and grills sizzling hot and the deep fryers boiling in hot oil, into the now dimly-lit break room out the alleyway, where a couple of human waiters loitered on break, sitting on overturned buckets, smoking as they made idle small talk. Grinning, Sans made a gesture of holding a cigarette near his mouth, and one of them, a tall, slender man with a tan and a dark combover rolled his eyes, reluctantly taking a pack from his pocket, shoving it at the skeleton's face as he took out a roll, raising it in appreciation. The other waiter, an older, fair-skinned and heavyset man with a stubble and a simple brown faux hawk, offered his lighter. With a strike and a puff, Sans became a member of the cabal.

"I dunno why the fuck I keep doing this." the dark-haired one muttered sullenly. Sans remembered his name being Jeremy, after catching Grillby disciplining him about a week ago, for what reason he couldn't remember. He'd only been with them for about a month so far. "These things aren't cheap anymore, y'know? Taxes and all."

"heh. what can i say?" Sans relished at his suffering, leaning at the brick wall between the door and the metal dumpster next to him, putting a foot up against it. "bro will kill me if i ever keep a pack at home."

"Well then keep it in your pocket!" the brown-haired one piped up, named Ty. He was the resident musclehead of the crew, which made him stand out to the skeleton enough to remember his name. "Or a bag, or something. Anything but home."

"i dunno, man. he's got pretty sharp eye sockets. and a nostril."

"In any case, that's the last time I'll ever offer you one." Jeremy declared, sneering as he crossed his arms. _Do waiters and waitresses always get this irritable at this time of night?_ , Sans wondered.

"suit yourself. i'll just bum one off tracy instead." the skeleton puffed. The staff had always wondered how he was able to do that despite not having visible lungs. "you know she never says no to me."

Ty snorted, biting at his cigarette.

"what? you jelly?" the skeleton smirked, raising invisible eyebrows.

"What, with a body like that? Not a chance in hell, man." Ty had a knack of boasting about his training sessions to anyone who'd be willing to give him an ear. "I pity you, not having muscles to show off." with peacocking skills like his, he could probably give Aaron a run for his money.

"but i make 'em laugh. gets 'em every time." the skeleton sniped back with a wide grin, shrugging with his arms wide open, cigarette in hand.

"Hey guys, sorry I'm late." the door opened, swinging at the wall opposite of the skeleton's to reveal a human girl. She was paler than Ty, with a petite build and a straw-blond pixie cut on top of a smooth, strawberry-shaped face. With a face like hers, she probably didn't look older than twenty-one. She stood beside Ty and turned to see the skeleton leaning against the wall, placing the cigarette back into his mouth. "Oh, hey Sans!"

"heya, tracy." the skeleton waved, shooting a quick glance at Ty, who looked away, fuming silently as he concentrated on finishing his cigarette.

"So, what's cookin' here?" the girl asked as she took out a cigarette of her own from the pocket of her black waist apron.

"Nothing much. Just Sans grandstanding about about how much of a fuckin' ladies' man he is." Jeremy answered, not bothering to conceal the saltiness in his voice.

"Aww... that's sweet." she took her lighter from the same pocket and initiated her own ceremony into the group. "Too bad I'm already taken."

"doesn't change the fact that you're still my favorite little sweetheart." Sans winked at her.

"Aww... thank you!" she made a dainty little puff, pulling the cigarette out to flick off excess ash with her index finger. "Do you say that to every girl you meet?"

"i may have." the skeleton shrugged again. "but only to the pretty ones."

"Ohh... fancy." Tracy uttered, sassing up her voice as she spoke. "Well keep at it, my favorite little heart-breaker!" she walked over to pet him on the skull. It was a suitable alternative to pinching a cheek, which Sans didn't have the skin for.

"thanks, kid." a small relief washed over Sans, as he grinned genuinely at her before taking another drag. After a long day of entertaining people, he needed some sort of pick-me-up to recover some of his spirits, even if it came in the form of a roast. Tracy was able to pick at the nuance of his grin, and returned one back at him accordingly.

"Anytime." the girl took a drag herself before turning to Jeremy. "Still pretty bummed out at being caught red-handed, eh?"

"Will you give it a fucking rest, please?!" the waiter snapped back, annoyed as he felt his face warm with embarrassment. He opted to chew on his cigarette, grinding his teeth all the while. "I couldn't help myself, alright? I just wanted a few sips."

"Well, you do know how the boss has a keen eye on the bar, right?" Tracy continued. "That's like, his comfort zone. He doesn't want anyone else going near that space."

"Yeah, come to think of it, he almost always never leaves that spot." Ty added.

"That's why I had to take the chance." Jeremy's voice sounded desperate as he tried to justify his actions. "I mean, what other bar in town has a bartender that keeps a freakin' bottle of Cacklin' Jack's Private Reserve whiskey? Stuff's rarer than my great-grandma's moonshine!"

"huh, guess it's not just kleptomania, but alcoholism that runs in the family."

"Shut the fuck up." Jeremy turned to cuss at Sans, inhaling and exhaling quickly through his nose, the smoke coming out of his nostrils in a comical fashion. With a mouth and attitude like his, the skeleton considered putting him in his place. "Look, he docked it off this week's pay. The matter's settled as far as I'm concerned."

"heh, like hell it is." the skeleton closed his eyes as he took and flicked ash off his cigarette, his grin becoming foreboding as he spoke. "you want to keep this job, right?"

"Of course I want to keep this fucking job." Jeremy's sailor tongue was out in full force. "I fucking hate it, but I have fucking bills to pay, so yeah."

Sans snickered. "tough luck, buddy. you're marked as far as grillbz is concerned." he paused. "the only reason you're still here's because of this whole ufc thing. he can't afford to fuck this up." he opened his eyes with hollow pupils, looking the waiter in the eye. Jeremy reeled at the sight, intimidated. He'd heard from the rest of the staff that the skeleton had a tendency to play the judge on bad seeds. He hadn't really heeded on the warning until now. The fact that Ty and Tracy hadn't flinched as he did showed they knew exactly what was happening.

"so you have yourself a second chance. if there's actually brain cells to rub together in that little wino head of yours, you'd better lay low and make a good impression of yourself. otherwise..." Sans moved away from the wall, bending over and sticking his head out until it was a mere few centimeters before Jeremy's face.

"you're in for a bad time. capiche?"

"J-Jesus..." Jeremy shuddered, now trembling visibly at the sight. He misjudged the otherwise affable skeleton, and didn't realize how creepy he actually looked from up close, especially with the hollow eyesockets and the creepy grin. He'd pegged the look to be a gloomy, brooding one, but it looked to be far more than that when seen at a different angle... or distance. "A-alright. I get it. I won't pull any more shit."

"good." but the skeleton refused to move away. In a moment that felt like a long time, Jeremy could feel his spine tense up.

"Y-you're fucking scaring me now. Will you cut it o--" suddenly, Sans's pupils jumped out of his sockets, and his bony fingers grasped onto his shoulders.

"boo!" with a cry of fear, the human waiter leapt off his bucket and stumbled backwards onto the dirty pavement, the cigarette flying off his mouth and into the ground.

"Aww, fuckin' hell, man!" Jeremy cried as a roar of laughter erupted from around him. Ty slapped a knee to punctuate his laughter and Tracy's giggling trailed after Sans's breathless cackling. The skeleton struggled to catch his breath, wiping a tear from his eye as he moved back to his spot on the wall, satisfied that his message was more or less acknowledged. Grumbling in humiliation, the red-handed waiter dusted off his bottom and sat back on his bucket, turning to face his body away from everyone else and saying nothing more, resting an arm on his chin.

When the mood began to level out again, Ty spoke.

"Hey, you seem to know the boss pretty well." he remarked.

Sans shrugged again. He considered opening up a little about himself to show that he was in a good mood. The nicotine helped him loosen up, if anything. "i was his favorite customer underground. now i have a tab to pay off, so i work here now." he snickered. "you could say i'm unofficially his **flaming right-hand**."

"And you've been here for about as long as I did." Tracy added, giggling once again.

"yeah. you're employee number six." Sans recalled easily.

"Sure was." the girl put her hands on her waist in mock pride. "I'll admit it took a while for me to get used to working with you guys, but hey, you can say that with almost any experience, y'know?"

"heh, true that." Sans's eyes drooped with nostalgia. "those were good times." he was reminded of days when he and Tracy would exchange a good hot roast, make faces at each other like little kids, and pull pranks at the expense of the rest of the staff. Grillby had to personally intervene after one particular incident involving noodles, so that last trend didn't quite catch on as he'd wanted. Sans hadn't really anticipated it, working at Grillby's, but somehow, fate had brought two kindred souls together. It hadn't been a dull moment since, and the skeleton could honestly say that he loved this job. He wouldn't trade it for anything else.

"You barely spoke to me, then." Tracy commented on the experience. "I had to piss you off just so you could start talking to me."

"oh, c'mon. cut me some slack." Sans fidgeted slightly, flicking some more ash off. "i needed to get a good gauge on you before i started getting chummy. i mean, when was the last time any of us got to see and talk to a human?" that statement was partly true. Frisk was one thing, but other humans were another. At times like these, the skeleton wondered how Papyrus was able to open up easily to human strangers. Understanding the rationale just seemed like a daunting task to him.

"Huh... well, you got me there." Tracy shrugged. "Still, it's a lot of fun roasting you. You're certainly somethin' else."

"right back at ya, kid." Sans winked, gesturing double finger guns back at her. "these weekly roasting sessions are certainly... **well-done.** "

"Man, I don't get you two." Ty continued to bite at his cigarette, shaking his head as the girl and the skeleton shared a hearty laugh.

"Make that both of us." Jeremy added, breaking his vow of silence.

The back door opened once again. A rabbit-like humanoid monster appeared and looked around, doing a double-take at the skeleton to his left. The sky-blue fur on the back of his head and lopsided ears glowed slightly from the dim light of the break room inside.

"Another order came in." the monster's eyes were dim and veiny with exhaustion, his voice deadpan as he barely acknowledged his fellow monster. "Grillby wants you to deal with it right away." he turned towards the three humans. "Breaktime's over. Time to pick up the pace. And Jeremy..." the monster turned to the waiter's direction. "You're on dishwasher duty. We need another set of hands there. Too many waitstaff are on the floor right now."

"knock 'em dead, pal." Sans gave Jeremy a thumbs-up, subtly reminding him of their talk as he finished the last of his cigarette, smothering the stub on the cold, hard ground with his shoe. The rest of the waiters followed suit. Silently, the three of them went back in to resume their shifts, neglecting their buckets. In the meantime, the monster waiter left the vicinity of the door and approached Sans with a slip of paper on hand, his expression unchanging.

The order called for a large flatbread pizza at an address Sans didn't recognize right away.

 _49 Saltridge Court._  The skeleton tried to recall if he'd ran into a street before with a similar name, but nothing came up. If anything, the address sounded like it would be a house delivery, and they were right in the middle of office buildings. Warning flags emerged from within Sans's skull.

"looks pretty far." the skeleton mused. "you sure this ain't a prank?"

"They already pre-paid." the monster shrugged. "Credit card checks out. They said it was for a 'frat party', whatever that means."

"frat party?" those were words that the skeleton hadn't heard in a while. From time to time, he'd overhear some of the younger office workers talking about it. Even Alphys brought it up in passing once, while talking about school, but she didn't sound very happy about it. He still had no idea what it is exactly, but it sounds like some kind of human pastime. Come to think of it, there was a human university that Alphys goes to about twenty minutes out of downtown, nested just a slight bit within the suburban area, with long roads leading into it, laden with protected forest lands. It sounded like the delivery was going to be somewhere around there. Even if the ride was going to be long, at least the scenery might be interesting enough to make up for most of the trip.

Still, Sans had his doubts. "why'd they wanna order this far out?"

"Beats me. Grillby told me to deal with the phone. I just took the orders down and did the usual pre-check with payments." the monster scratched the back of his head impatiently. "Seems to check out, so are you going to deliver or not?"

Somehow, despite the doubts, Sans was in a good mood. The day was going smoothly at this point. The cigarette he bummed off of Jeremy tasted great. Maybe his fears are unfounded regarding this unusual order. Sans wondered why exactly he was being paranoid about this. In the end, he'll just be taking the food, driving a while, handing it over, and heading back. He could use a different route for a change, so it's not like it's a big deal, right?

Right?

* * *

At the skeletons' house, Papyrus sat curled up on the couch in his pajamas, slumped against the seat, clutching a throw pillow as he browsed through channels on the TV, his bony hand deftly holding the remote control. Aside from reruns of Mettaton's soaps, cooking shows featuring crustaceans and shellfish, and the odd human serial, there was nothing else that piqued his interest this evening. It didn't help that he had yet another long day at work.

It was fun. It had always had been for him. The human children always seemed to have energy when he least expected it, and so they were always eager to play. One Frisk and one Monster Kid suited him, ten to fifteen Frisks is, well... herding cats, but he didn't mind. The fact that he was able to play and rouse the attention of many kids at once made Papyrus a fan favorite at the Montessori, and despite the initial apprehension from parents about having a skeleton teach little kids, they ended up relenting after one too many melodramatic partings at the door whenever it was time for them to go.

But as the days came and went, he'd find that his fatigue would get worse and worse in small increments, and it was encroaching on his ability to put his best foot forward in everything he did. He wasn't really sure why. He wasn't usually the type to dwell on things for too long; that had always been Sans's thing. Even if he'd been consistently aware of the problem, he hadn't really bothered doing anything about it, hoping instead that it'll pass. It's not like he was physically exhausted. Sure, he was often tired by evening, but that's usually normal, isn't it? Nothing a good night's sleep could fix. Training with Undyne was always a blast, and he'd never faltered on his morning jogs. Honestly, nothing beats a half-marathon run in under an hour before sunrise every day. His fervent dedication to it had fellow neighborhood joggers dub him "Papyrus the Unflinching".

And yet, he always seemed to lack something. Day by day, his patience drew thinner, his mind grew dull, and he was less likely to brush things off as easily as he used to. Occasionally, a biting remark from a new kid or a sidelong comment from someone's guardian at work about his being a monster would get to him, and despite the reassurance from his co-workers that he belonged where he was, he'd pine for his brother more than ever. Some nights, on the couch together, watching TV, he'd put his arms around Sans a little bit more tightly, or lean into him, skull to skull. He'd ask his brother to read Fluffy Bunny to him before bed, despite having long outgrown it, seeking comfort in nostalgia. His brother always listened, and always heeded his requests in these dark times, regardless of what happened between them prior. He never said it outright, but he knew Sans did everything to make him happy. He always appreciated all the things he'd do to make him happy, even if he didn't always show it. Despite the frequent fights they'd had underground, they both knew that in the worst of circumstances, they would always have each other for support. Papyrus often held onto that as a reason to keep on living: to be happy for his brother.

However, the mental exhaustion that was slowly developing inside him made it difficult to stay happy for him. Work was starting to invade further and further into his work-life balance, that he's beginning to spend less and less time with Sans, which wasn't much to begin with given his brother's ridiculous work schedule working at Greasy Grillby's. And with his brother's meltdown on Mt. Ebott last weekend, a rift had begun to form between them once again. Despite his and his brother's efforts to repair the gap, Papyrus couldn't help but feel that he'd lost faith in this brother a long time ago. In his heart, even though it was his duty to help and support him as a sibling, somehow... he'd lost hope in him being able to function normally again, and he couldn't stand it. This wasn't the first time he had to intervene for his sake. In fact, counting the previous times he'd had to hold his brother's hand every time he broke down, in the end they'd only be back where they started, and the cycle would inevitably start all over again. He knew he can't really push Sans to be better than he is, but it frustrated him, knowing that he only really tries his best until it isn't necessary anymore. Why bother, if things aren't going to be any different despite his own efforts to change his approach? The fact that Sans still hadn't given him his decision about the new job the king offered is a very telling sign that they're heading that direction once more, and he'd tried being patient about it this time instead of being his usual nagging self. _Why? I would never give up on the things I did, but... of all things, why do I feel like I've given up on my brother...? I mustn't...! I shouldn't...!_

Sooner or later, Sans will notice, and he will not be very happy to know that his own brother had lost faith in him. It would utterly devastate him, and surely, things will never be the same between them.

The tall skeleton gazed at the wall clock above the TV. It was ten minutes past 9pm. It would be about four hours before his brother returned from work, and his bedtime was usually at 10:30pm on the dot. Except weekends, they really only see each other during breakfast, before going to their respective jobs. Small talk would be exchanged. Sans would toss his terrible jokes and he'd moan and groan, before proceeding to nag about--

Papyrus's train of thought was interrupted by a shrill, yet muffled ring next to him. He'd been telling himself to change the ringtone for a long while now, but had yet to get around to it. Reaching into the cushions without breaking his gaze on the TV with his free hand, he fished out the device and faced the screen towards him. An icon of a fish presented itself, arrows flashing to prompt a call response.

It was Undyne. _Maybe she's calling me about training._  Papyrus thought, as he slid a thumb across the screen and placed the phone next to his ear socket, placing down the remote on his other hand after muting the TV.

"This is the Great Papyrus speaking!" Papyrus began with practiced enthusiasm.

"Heya, nerd! What's up?!" the bipedal fish roared back. From her voice, it seemed like a far cry from the Undyne that he'd seen just about a week ago. She seemed very cheerful tonight.

"Splendid! I was just perusing some resources on cooking tiger shrimp." the skeleton made an effort to sound as pompous as possible. It usually came a lot more naturally. "How about you?"

"What?! You're watching cooking shows at this time of night?" Undyne scoffed. "I'm watching the UFC fight with Alphys right now! You should come join us!" 

Papyrus smiled at her thoughtfulness. It seemed foolish though. It's not like she could see it. "I'd be honored, but I have... domestic duties to carry out at home."

"Oh, come on, it's not like you've got anyone else at home tonight!" there were slight changes in Undyne's voice, as if she was trying to avoid saying Sans's name. Papyrus found it strange. She was usually straightfoward, as was befitting for a former captain of the Royal Guard.

"I'll think about it. How's that sound?" the skeleton opted to get to the point. "So, what's this about?"

Undyne sighed on the other end. "Just thought I'd remind you about practice tomorrow." her cheerful disposition seemed to disappear immediately, and her voice returned to its usual serious tone.

"You don't need to remind me, Undyne. We've always had practice on Saturdays."

"Yeah, well, given the stuff that happened--" Undyne paused abruptly. "Hey, listen. I didn't mean to sound so harsh back there last week, but I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

Papyrus had a feeling they'd be talking about this. "Why would you be sorry?" He's just glad that he wasn't the only one thinking about it on-and-off all week. "We were all pretty shocked about what happened. Your reaction to it seemed about right. We all needed some time to process and sort these things out."

"Yeah, you're right. I just... I'm not gonna kill Sans, okay?" Undyne took a deep breath. "It was just a stupid empty threat."

"I figured." despite that, Papyrus sighed with relief, knowing things are more or less straight between Undyne and Sans. He'd have to deliver the good news to his brother when he gets back.

"I talked things through with Alphys, and we figured the best way to get through this is to be patient. For his sake." there was a slight pause. Papyrus had a feeling that there was a slight coercion required on Alphys's part to get Undyne to act this way, otherwise she wouldn't have reneged as she did. "Not exactly my style, isn't it?"

"No, not really." patience was never a word that best described Undyne. Undyne: the passionate, hot-blooded fish who could suplex boulders and set houses on fire after cooking a meal. Knowing that, Undyne giggled sheepishly.

"Well, I might as well get used to it. If I can last a week, she'll be paying for ramen the next time we go out." Papyrus imagined the goofy grin she might be having as she said that. He couldn't help but chuckle at the thought, and it put a genuine smile on his face: his first in a while.

"That's the spirit!" the skeleton responded with some pep in his voice. The bipedal fish giggled back, with some trace of triumph evident in her voice. Despite the pep, Papyrus couldn't help but express his doubts, however, and his smile faded as quickly as it came. "But do you really think... it'll work?"

"I dunno. You tell me."

"Well, it's that..." the skeleton stopped himself just short of spilling the beans. Though Undyne was aware that he and Sans occasionally fought, as is often the case with siblings, he'd never indulged her in the details surrounding his and his brother's underlying problems. These were things they preferred to keep to themselves; Sans especially.

"It's what?" Undyne was left hanging for a response, and Papyrus could tell she was starting to worry. Once she catches wind of something, she had a tendency to never let go. In his mind, Papyrus chided himself. There wasn't going to be any way out of this. "Spit it out. We're family, aren't we?"

"It's..." _Sans is going to kill me when he finds out I told her about this._  "This isn't the first time this happened."

"Huh..." it took a while for Undyne to process what she'd just heard, before she replied. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Oh. You're not?"

"Well, it's just that... I've been seeing a pattern." the skeleton hadn't pegged Undyne to be the perceptive type, but it seemed that if one carried the same habits and acted in the same manner, heck, even dressed the same clothes for the last five years, then even a deaf-blind could see just as much of a pattern as she could. "I just wish I saw it sooner, y'know?"

"Heh, I'm just glad you beat me to the chase in intervening this time." Papyrus said, a twinge of sarcasm in his voice as he spoke.

"Yup, looks like I stole the role from you. Now it looks like I have to pick up after hi--." another abrupt pause. "Huh? You wanna talk to him?" the bipedal fish's voice was distant as she spoke to Alphys, whom Papyrus imagined was a distance away from her. "Uh, hey. Alphys said she wanted to talk to you. You alright with that?"

"Um, sure." the skeleton nodded. What was it about phone calls and gestures that made him so compelled to act them out, anyway?

"Ok. Guess I'll talk to you later, then." he could hear rustling on the other side until he was able to hear the rotund lizard's voice on the other line.

"H-hey, Papyrus!" Alphys greeted. "How are you doing?"

"Splendid! How about you?"

"G-give me a sec here." the skeleton heard ambient noise and lively chatter growing more distant by the second. The noise was no doubt coming from the UFC match playing on their TV. After a distant, imcomprehensible shout of disbelief from Undyne about some false referee calls, Alphys spoke again.

"Y-yeah! Undyne and I are doing fine on our end. I think she already told you what we were doing tonight, did she?"

"Yeah, she did."

"It'd be r-really nice if you could come and join us, though."

"Hmm... I'm not sure."

"Aww..." Alphys didn't have to hear any more to understand what Papyrus meant. "Well, in any case, how are you and Sans holding up?"

"We're doing a lot better, if that's saying much. Nyeh-heh..." it was Papyrus's turn to laugh sheepishly, putting a hand at the back of his skull. Alphys made a sound, as if unconvinced. "We hadn't fought... yet, so I guess that's a good sign?"

"I don't think... that's a good indicator that things are fine between you two." the lizard replied with concern. "You can talk to us about these things, Papyrus. It's not healthy to bottle this up. You of all people should know that."

"Yeah, I'm just..." Papyrus's breath shuddered, and he felt his mouth tremble. It happened so suddenly that he hadn't anticipated it. He tried to hold in his frustration, tried to conceal it with another half-hearted giggle, but it was leaking at this point. _Of all the possible things that could happen this week, why now?_  Papyrus asked himself as he felt tears well up in his eyes. "I don't know what to do with him anymore." his voice quavered slightly as he spoke.

Alphys was silent. Papyrus took it to mean that she was listening. He mustered up the courage to speak again, despite finding it uncomfortable to speak about private matters.

"I want to be strong for him, just as he was strong for my sake." the skeleton continued, trying to sound natural, straining to be as cheerful as possible. "He's done so much for me that, looking back from before we left, I realized how ungrateful I've been." he sniffled. "It's funny, how we tend to realize these things as we get older."

"I know the feeling." Alphys reassured back. "You're not alone."

"I-I'm glad." the tears began to flow now, but Papyrus tried to smile anyway, trying to sound hopeful and optimistic, like he'd always been. "I mean, I'm trying to change now, though. I try not to whine or nag anymore, like I used to. I'll be there for him when he needs it, but I'll also respect his boundaries." he sniffled again, trying to wipe off the tears with the palm of his free hand. "It's hard, but I've made some progress over the years. At least, I'd like to think that's the case."

"I'm sure your brother appreciates the effort you're making to change, e-even if he doesn't always reciprocate his feelings." Alphys said, her tone encouraging.

"I'd love to believe that, but... despite everything I've done to help him and be a better brother." his fingers trembled again. He took a deep breath, trying once again to push his frustrations down. "Why do I feel like I want to give up?"

"Papyrus..."

"I'm tired, Alphys. I'm so, so tired." his breath hitched, and he slapped his hand onto his mouth so Alphys didn't hear. "Him breaking down, like he did... it's nothing new. I'd help him back up, he'd feel better, and then that's it. It never went to the next level, you see? He's too lazy to sort out his own mess... and, he never tells me anything." he took another shaky, now muffled breath. "And to think, we had a good thing going, the day after it happened. I've been a fool to think that anything was going to change."

"Please, don't say that..."

"I've been patient with Sans for a long time, but my help can only go so far... when he can barely muster up the will to help himself." he withdrew his hand to wipe off more tears. Despair hung over him like an unwanted visitor, despite his previous efforts to fight it off. To Alphys's credit, opening up about this issue helped to let out some of the pent-up frustration he'd been pushing down now, even if it's only a tiny amount.

"T-that's the dilemma, isn't it?" Alphys replied, her tone of voice suggesting she agreed with the skeleton. "The best we can do is to be patient and accommodating, b-but only time will tell when it actually starts paying off." she sighed. "I mean, that's what being patient is all about, isn't it? Until Sans is ready to talk, that's all we can do. A-anyway, I want you to know that you're not alone in this." her tone shifted delicately. "We all want to help Sans just as much as you do, so please, don't give up on him, no matter how long it takes. We're with you all the way."

"Th-thank you, Alphys..." a dam inside him burst, and Papyrus couldn't push down his emotions any further. He began to sob quietly, hiccuping occasionally, and he pushed himself to the corner of the couch, his legs huddled together, squeezing the pillow he'd been holding between his body as he tried to comfort himself. "What you just said... means a lot to me." he struggled to say, as he felt his frustrations drain away, in some kind of cathartic release. He felt like he could start thinking clearly again. "To think... I thought you guys gave up on him already."

"U-us? Give up?!" the lizard uttered in stark disbelief. "O-of course not! I-I mean, we were all pretty shocked about what happened, but there is no way in hell we would ever give up on Sans!" it was rare to rile up Alphys like that, but hearing her say that gave the skeleton some semblance of relief. "If anything, we should do everything we can to support him! You agree, don't you?"

Papyrus didn't say anything, but he nodded.

"A-are you going to be alright? D-do you want us to come over and keep you company?" Alphys began to worry greatly, a slight panic lacing her voice. The skeleton realized his gestures didn't translate into actual words, and was coerced to speak up.

"Please, you don't need to worry about me." he punctuated with a sniffle, finally able to get a hold of himself after a brief moment. "I'll be fine. I'm very great, after all."

"Well, alright." Alphys sighed. "I guess, if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to call us, ok?"

"I appreciate your concern. I... I'm glad we had this talk." it felt about right to end the call now. "I'll see you both tomorrow."

"T-take care."

The skeleton hung up. He tossed the phone back on the far end of the couch and took deep breaths, wiping off residual tears with both palms to his face. He was finally able to calm down after a while, feeling a lot better than he did about twenty minutes ago. For the moment, his fatigue had left him, and he felt like he could look forward to tomorrow. He considered preparing his things for the upcoming practice, making a mental note to reflect on his talk with Alphys some other time.

The tall skeleton had just gotten onto his feet, when a brisk, urgent rap disturbed the front door. _Wowie, is Sans home early? Why is he knocking?_ Keeping pace with its urgency, Papyrus put aside the pillow he'd been carrying the entire time and strided towards the door to answer it.

What he saw on the other side shocked him, feeling his face twist into horror. His hands reflexively went to his mouth to suppress himself from going into hysterics.

"He needs to lie down. Now." Grillby's voice crackled with the urgency of a brush fire, as he had Sans's arm over his hunched shoulder, standing on the other side of the door. The stout skeleton was barely conscious, his pupils hollow and half-closed, a fissure and some cracks jutting out just a ways above his left eye, the fault lines running deeply through his skull. His breaths were long and sluggish, and his uniform was wrinkled, dishevelled with dirty black scuff marks and something damp and red, his bowtie torn out from his collar, hanging limply around his neck.

"Wha..." Papyrus stammered as his feet unconsciously scrambled him out of the way, letting them in. "What happened to him?" his fear and anxiety rose from his spine, stiffening his back.

Grillby didn't answer. He and Sans hobbled in, taking almost a full minute to reach the couch. Like setting an arthritic old monster down to a wheelchair, Grillby slowly let go of Sans as he sat himself down, struggling to shift his bony legs up as he laid himself down on its surface. He didn't bother to take off his shoes, damp and dirty with mud and grass clippings.

Papyrus gulped, regaining his bearings immediately. He strode to the kitchen to get a washcloth and a basin of warm water as Grillby set the pillow on the couch under Sans's head, swiftly moving out of the way as Papyrus approached, kneeling down and dampening the cloth in his hands with the basin before dabbing it onto the cracks and fissures on his brother's forehead, cleaning the wounds before he could heal them with his magic. Sans turned to look at his brother, his white pupils appearing with a watery consistency, while his ever-grinning mouth gave him a weak smile.

"hey, bro..." Sans grunted, his voice dangerously low and gravelly.

"Sans..." Papyrus looked his brother in the eye, his nonexistent eyebrows furrowing deeply with concern. "What happened to you?"

Sans's face reacted mildly with confusion. He shook his head slightly. Papyrus could tell the simple act pained him.

"sorry, bro... can't hear anything... got... clocked in the noggin' pretty good..."

Papyrus's nonexistent brows furrowed ever so deeply after hearing this. He briskly dabbed the rest of the cracks of any dirt and detritus, wringing the cloth clean a few times before he was done. Setting down the cloth in the now slightly dirty water, Papyrus flexed his fingers, raising his palms high above his brother's forehead. They began to glow a gentle green, and a low hum could be heard as the air coalesced in between his bony fingers.

"I'm sorry, Sans, but this is going to hurt." in one swift motion, before his brother could anticipate it, he pressed his palms down and applied pressure onto the wound. His brother gasped and stifled cries of pain, his ribcage rising and his limbs writhing as the bone sewed itself back together, the gaps aligning in place with audible cracking noises that made Grillby feel queasy. Sans's breaths quickened and his eyes were shut tight, tearing slightly. After a minute or two, the fissures and cracks eventually reattached themselves, forming finer lines, and at this point Papyrus let go. Sans's breaths relaxed and soon became soft with the sound of sleep, his body limp and thoroughly drained of energy. The tall skeleton caressed his brother's forehead once more before moving away, standing with the basin and washcloth in hand.

"I need to head back to the pub, if you'll excuse me." there was subdued impatience in Grillby's voice as he made his request.

"No. You're not excused." Papyrus's voice lowered, his expression darkening as he turned to glare accusingly at his brother's employer. "We need to talk. You're going to tell me what happened here, and you're going to explain to me why Sans should keep this job." he paused, feeling the weight of his next words as they shifted in his mind.

He realized that if Sans wasn't going to make a decision about the new job, he'd have to make it for him. It was for his own good, and though he agreed with Alphys that he should be patient, the fact remained that Sans still wasn't taking any initiatives to sort out his issues. _I need to... no, I MUST push him to the right direction_. His patience would mean nothing, otherwise. The gloves were off, and a rude awakening was necessary for him and Sans to make progress in his recovery.

It was wishful thinking, but beyond this, he was out of ideas.

It had to be done.

"Because I don't think... he should be working there anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the long wait. Life happened, and suddenly I had to juggle multiple things at once. It took a while to get back into this again. Hope you're enjoying this as much as I'm writing it so far.
> 
> I'm surprised at how this chapter came out. I kinda like it. Because it's dialogue-heavy, it was a struggle to get most of it just right. The journal segment in the beginning was somewhat tricky to implement as well. Hopefully it'll get easier as we proceed further into the fic.
> 
> Whenever I run out of things to write, I've been working on transliterating the hymmnos I'll be using for this fic. It won't be a direct translation, but will be relative to the context in which they will be used. I'm excited to share those with you guys real soon...


	4. into darkness

The phone rang monotonously beside Sans's earhole as he stood hunched over, his back towards his brother, who stood at a distance beside his dining chair with a forlorn expression on his face. His head was still aching, and it took a good amount of whatever meager amount of strength he had just to be able to stand upright. He walked to the nearby wall instead, supporting his weight by putting his free arm up horizontally on the wallpapered surface with his head against it, hiding the hollow expression on his face from his brother as he desperately tried to reach the pub.

He hoped to explain the situation, and maybe, if Grillby was gracious enough, maybe he'll get back his job. This was, after all, just a silly misunderstanding. He'd only meant to drop in the order, but one thing led to another, and suddenly, he'd gotten himself into a sticky situation.

It wasn't his fault that the pizza wasn't warm enough. It was a long drive.

It wasn't his fault that he got stern with the punk at the door. The bastard didn't even bother to leave a tip for his troubles.

It wasn't his fault that he landed the first blow on said punk. He just had to say something nasty about him being a monster, didn't he? Normally, he wasn't impulsive like that, but that night he felt good. He felt lucky. He felt invincible... too invincible for his own good.

And... and it wasn't his fault that he'd gotten banged up as badly as he did. They were ten to one, and magic simply wasn't an option. Why that wasn't the case was a blur to him, however. He couldn't remember much after that. The fact that his head was pounding must've had something to do with it.

In any case, Papyrus had overreacted in doing what he did. When his brother broke the news to him, it took every fiber of his being not to leap over the table and strangle him, after he'd gotten over the sudden shock. The fantasy was still strong in his head, but the opportunity had long passed.

_Everything was fine! Splendid! The week had gone by so marvelously, and he had to fuck everything up! Why? Why? Why...?!_

After four, five, six, seven rings, the call went to voicemail. Sans didn't pay attention to the automated voice on the other line; he already knew how it went. It only made his heart sink even further, and his bones numbed. He wasn't sure what kind of emotion he was feeling. He wasn't even sure if he was feeling anything at all. He felt empty, like a gaping hole had burst open from beneath his feet and sucked him in, imprisoning him in utter darkness. A sense of vertigo struck him, and his legs gave out, falling to the floor. The hand carrying his phone fell limply to his side, and the device clattered on the tiled floor, still in the middle of voicemail, sounding a long, faint beep to prompt a response.

Looking down on his knees, it was then that Sans realized he still hadn't changed out of his work clothes. Feeling the pressure within the toes of his feet, he also realized that he still hadn't taken off his shoes since last night.

"The pub is closed today. You won't be able to reach Grillby." Papyrus said, stating the obvious. How could he have forgotten so easily? Grillby was on holiday... today was his daughter's birthday. "You can speak to him on Monday, but I doubt it's going to change anything." he had a nagging feeling that he should stop talking, but didn't heed it. "He said he already found a repl--"

"shut up... please." Sans's voice was low and gravelly, but threatening nonetheless, as he cut his brother's sentence short. Papyrus stopped speaking immediately and gazed sadly at the table.

He'd prepared a light breakfast an hour earlier than usual, but none of it was touched, and was getting cold by the minute. The bacon was slowly turning white, the eggs were losing their newly-cooked sheen, and the toast was probably starting to get stale as well. The utensils on Sans's side of the table were scattered, having been slammed down earlier. Whatever dents it left on the table now wasn't going to come off anytime soon.

"Look, breakfast is getting cold." Papyrus said cautiously. "We should eat. You're not well, and you need to get your strength back."

Papyrus wondered if it was too soon for him to have done it, but his nerves had gotten to him, and he felt it was better to break it to him now than later, when his brother would long disappear to God-knows-where until dinnertime. Letting this matter fester over the weekend would've made it much worse, when he'd been meaning to talk to Asgore sometime after breakfast to finally seal the deal on the new job. _This is going to be good for him,_ Papyrus kept telling himself. _It has to be._

Was he in the right in making this decision on behalf of his brother? _Of course not,_  Papyrus thought, _but something needed to happen. Something had to change this time._  Papyrus refused to make the same mistake that he did last time, when he let Sans decide on his own for too long. He knew he'd just brush it off and pretend it didn't happen once things blew over. He knew, but he'd held out hope that Sans would realize the gravity of his situation and actually do something about it on his own, after bringing it up in that conversation over dinner last Monday.

But now that the week had passed, and not a peep was heard about this matter. Papyrus faith had been shattered. He had to do something. Drastic actions had to be taken, and it was all going to be for his sake. _This is going to be good for him... it has to be!_

The silence coming from Sans however, didn't help reassure his decision, as it felt like icy daggers in Papyrus's soul. It was unbearable.

"Please, brother... talk to me." the tall skeleton pleaded. "You promised, didn't you? You promised you will find a way to change for the better. I gave you an option, and you said you were going to think about it."

More silence from Sans. He barely stirred.

"Well, I waited about a week, and you didn't say anything. After what happened to you last night, I couldn't just sit by any longer. I had to do something! If I had to see you like that every other night, then any job's better than working there!"

Papyrus hadn't realized until now that he'd raised his voice. He didn't care. If screaming isn't get it through his thick skull, then what will?

"You've worked there for five years, and Grillby was very quick to get rid of you, did you know that?" the skeleton appealed to reason, his voice becoming stern, animating his hands while speaking. Sans was good at the whole logic game, wasn't he? "I simply suggested it, and he broke it off, just like that. When you think about it, don't you realize how little your job meant to him?"

And yet, it was like talking to a rock. Sans still wasn't stirring. Papyrus felt a burning sensation rise from within him, and his hands clenched into trembling fists.

"Well? Are you just going to sit there?!" his voice became tainted with frustration. "Talk to me, damn it!"

Sans's body shook. Papyrus finally got a reaction. With what little strength the stout skeleton had, he was able to get back on his feet, tottering a bit as he clutched at his aching head. Without facing his brother, he turned a ninety-degree angle to the left and proceeded to stride out of the kitchen.

"Where are you going?!" Papyrus followed his brother out of the doorway. "Sans!"

"you can eat breakfast alone." Sans's voice wavered as he spoke.

"Well, we're not done talking!" Papyrus bent over, reaching a hand out to his brother's left shoulder. "So you need to turn around and head back right--"

As Papyrus took a firm grasp on his shoulder, Sans immediately turned and backhanded his brother across the cheekbones. Papyrus clutched at the spot where he'd been struck, his mouth agape, dumbfounded. When he slowly turned to face his brother again, he was greeted with bared teeth, and sad, teary eyes.

Sans's breath shuddered.

"you had no fucking right to do this to me." he hissed, raising a finger at him from the same hand that struck his brother. "i trusted you, of all people."

The words immediately shot down the tall skeleton. He couldn't figure out a proper retort. In his desperation, Papyrus took away what was rightfully Sans's, whether he liked it or not. He was right: he didn't have the right to take the job from him. In his indignant effort to try and help his brother, he didn't realize how badly he'd hurt him.

The poison of guilt began to seep into Papyrus's mind.

"that worthless job meant something to me." the stout skeleton started again, his voice cracking. "when everything in my life's gone fubar, at least... i had one place where i could... pretend to be normal, y'know?" Sans's teeth curled into a small, defeated smile as he shrugged. "and now... it's gone. thanks, pap. thanks for your help." the smile crashed into a quivering grimace and Sans's eyesockets hollowed. The pain of betrayal took a firm hold of him, and he tried to clutch his arms together in some futile effort for comfort, stifling a cry.

"Sans, I--" Papyrus tried to come closer... tried to reach an arm out again, but his brother swatted it away immediately.

"no!" Sans retreated back a few steps, shaking his head, his sockets wide with fear. "stay away from me... please." he turned and went for the stairs. Frozen in place, Papyrus immediately heard the door open and slam shut. Faintly, he heard sheets of paper being wrestled haphazardly for the next two or three minutes before the sudden silence took over the house once again.

Sans was gone. Though he didn't see it with his very own eyes, his brotherly intuition was never wrong. Staring blankly into the distance, he let his arms drop on his sides as he turned back to the kitchen. Sans's phone was still on the floor. From a distance he could tell it was still on Grillby's voicemail, with the big red hang-up button still untouched at the center of the screen. He picked it up and promptly pressed it, and the phone immediately went to the lock screen, showing a picture of the two of them and their favorite human companion: goofy grins at the park in some bygone day and time. When the screen faded to black, he placed the device on the countertop.

Papyrus leaned his back against the wall where Sans was just minutes ago. He fell to the floor and pressed his hands to his face, letting the guilt wash over him as he wept.

 

* * *

 

 

In the deafeningly quiet wastes of an underground forest, a sentient yellow flower loitered by a clearing, sulking motionlessly as it stared aimlessly down at the vast expanse of snow that surrounded him. Flurries gently fluttered from somewhere up the cavernous ceiling, laying themselves down on the whiteness only to melt. The snow was icier and slushier at this time of the year, as the outside heat slowly radiated through the rock and altered the frozen frontier's atmosphere, leading to weaker snowfall and more visible greenery as the snowcaps on the evergreens melted down segment by segment and acre by acre at a sluggish pace. By the end of the season, the melting should stop, and new snow should eventually come back to take the place of the old, as it always did without fail.

This was Flowey's new routine: helplessly watching the seasons come and go after the last of the monsters finally left the mountain. The effects their departure had left on the Underground were apparent almost immediately, with all the vibrancy and color they brought to this world packed up and taken along with them. The Underground had become a dilapidated ruin since, fated to be cast away into the darkness, only half-heartedly mentioned in passing within the annals of monster history.

And who could blame them? Mt. Ebott was essentially a prison. Who would ever want to get comfortable living in one? When overpopulation was an impending concern and a downtrodden populace yearned and demanded freedom ever more desperately from their king, none were the least eager when the barrier was finally broken thanks to the deeds of the eighth human. With the golden opportunity of an endless world beyond the mountain now within their grasp, every monster big and small sought to spread their wings ( _or lack thereof_ ) and take flight, as any opportunity couldn't be any worse than living a fruitless existence under a mountain.

But Flowey knew. Beyond that broken barrier, monsterkind was taking a small step in a difficult journey in which they will have to suffer and be hurt by the humans that will be reluctantly receiving them. In the new world that they'll face, the phrase "kill or be killed" had never rang any more true than when it's put under the context of determined humankind, who've fought tooth and nail since time immemorial for their own survival.

He wouldn't be surprised if specks of dust had to fly before the populace realized that what worked in the Undeground isn't gonna work anymore in this new world.

Every other night, he gloated at the thought of eventually seeing at least one monster with its tail between its legs, cackling as he always did while dishing out a stream of "I told you so"'s under the most inventive faces he could make with his ever-malleable visage. It was a thing to look forward to, when it didn't seem like there would ever be anything else to look forward to in this dump.

But in the end, there really was nothing to look forward to. Time, once an infinite loop of inconsequential permutations, was now marching forward indifferently, the seasons appearing in its wake as day and night passed without fail. The flower never imagined he would see the Underground differently like this, in which the snow would melt and reappear, the leaves would decay and bud again in the branches, and the flowers would wilt and die to sprout once again. Where he thought all life was gone, it only reappeared in a form he hadn't quite anticipated.

Soon enough, four years had passed. He had yet to see a single monster return to the mountain. He didn't want to believe it. Had he been wrong this whole time? Were they actually faring better than he'd initially thought? Were his impressions of humankind simply... all wrong all along? Was he... naive in thinking that the human condition was one born of evil intentions? Were they actually much nicer than he thought they were?

 _No. No way in hell. That's stupid. Humans can never be truly nice. Frisk is maybe an exception, but there is no way a human can ever be as nice as the average monster._ Flowey made an active note to himself never to entertain such foolish doubts ever again. One way or another, a monster had to come back. And when it does, Flowey would be ready to welcome them back in some form of another. As the only living thing around these parts, that pretty much made him the sole ruler of the Underground by default.

But then that begged the question: who'd want to come back to see such a dinky place? With the squalor enveloping the Underground, the very idea of where to get started in cleaning up the place seemed very daunting.

Vines had begun to crawl into the walls of the Ruins, and the dirt had started to pile on the ground with no one cleaning the pathways. Though he used to be a frequent visitor of the area, Flowey rarely set his roots there for too long anymore due to the musty, stagnant air of decayed leaves making him feel sick.

Meanwhile, Toriel's house is drafty, creaky, and empty: a far cry to the cozy, spotless home it once was, tended to meticulously by a matronly goat that used to be his mother. The shrouds placed over some of the furniture that she couldn't take with her gave the place an even more forlorn aura. Flowey made a concerted effort never to visit that house ever again. The sooner he can give up on his past memories of belonging in a loving family, the better. After all, such memories are always going to be just that: a memory.

And Snowdin... it looked like the lights have been out in that town for a very long time. Though the occasional howling wind that passed through the single street served to provide a chilling ambiance, Flowey couldn't help but still hear the faint shadow of a warm, cozy carol that used to stir the very town as he passed by. Sadly, the same town had now passed into an eternal sleep the likes that it's never seen before. Only ice and snow live there, now.

Flowey sighed. He'd lost count of the number of times he did that. Being the only living thing around sucked. Speaking of living though, he didn’t have a soul. Without a soul, can he really call himself alive?

When he fought Frisk with seven human souls inside him, it engulfed him in a power that wasn't even remotely imaginable for a tiny monster such as him. This power gave him a kind of strength and vitality that made him feel... alive. And this kind of alive? It was nothing compared to a monster's understanding of "alive".

This feeling he felt. Though one would call it "determination", the word itself didn't do justice on the sensations and perspectives that were granted to him by the human souls. The driving force of what made humans human, and monsters monsters became very clear to him in the form of a primal instinct.

Compared to monsterkind's inherent desire to freely express themselves and allow for a cohesive, collective harmony with one another, humankind's was a primal instinct to survive against all costs. This constant drive to survive and thrive beyond any other human formed the very basis of this... "Determination". Without experiencing the devouring of a soul firsthand, the average monster would never be able to grasp the true meaning of determination, and by extension, the true nature of humans.

However, they finally get one taste of the stuff, boy... it's addictive. So addictive, that it radically alters the very constitution of a monster. It makes them stronger, wiser, and more superior than any other lifeform.

Where distilled determination is like feeding on vapors: failing to provide for a monster's fundamental needs and is toxic, a human soul is a full-course meal that is not only delicious and nutritious, but is all-natural.

Devouring a human soul is an inherent ability of every single monster. They were created to follow on this natural desire. They are fated to desire and feed on human souls.

So, knowing all this, why should it ever be considered depraved to follow such desires? Knowing that this is what the humans feared, why didn't monsterkind fight to exploit this ability? Is it not wrong to deny ourselves of our true nature to usurp humankind with this ability? Should we not indulge their survival instinct by taking it from them and turning it into... something better? Why did we stand down? Why did we let them push us around? Why did countless numbers of our brethren perish for the sake of foolish benevolence? Why did we let them imprison us?

_Why? Why? Why? Why? WHY?!_

He'd debated with himself before on the nature of monsterkind and their true purpose beyond the mountain, and yet, an answer to such questions seemed so far away. Most of these debates only ever end up being unconstructive rants in the end. It only made Flowey's head hurt as soon as he reached a dead end on his debates like this, so he's forced to stop until he's able to strike up the mood to try again.

In the meantime, he continued to stare at nothing, wasting his time away, as he'd done day after day. This was his routine now, until, at least, he's bored enough to take up another new hobby.

This pondering over silence was soon interrupted, when he was suddenly startled by a magical blast that reverberated through the slushy snow, stirring the icy grains like wet sand and unsettling the flower's balance, causing him to reflexively dig his roots deeper into the ground to regain his stability. The tremors lasted for a brief moment, before everything was quiet once again.

Suddenly, like an animal hungry for prey, Flowey yearned to know where the source of the power came from, burrowing and digging hastily through the earth. The taste of the magic was tantalizing, and he was powerless to resist. Yet, even with the animal instinct driving him forward, there was something that nagged him at the back of his mind.

Something about that power he'd just felt seemed familiar. Way too familiar. He'd felt the energy signature of this magic before. In fact, he'd fought against the person that doled out this kind of magic in the past. This person gave him his fair share of resets before Frisk came along, and was by far his least favorite monster. He'd recognize the magic that was expelled from anywhere, but given the arduous passage of time, he just had to see it to believe it. Flowey needed some kind of reassurance that he wasn't going crazy from the utter boredom: seeing, hearing, and feeling things he wasn't supposed to. Then again, he wouldn't be wrong if he had definitely gone past that point.

He arrived at about a few meters away from where he most definitely felt was the source of the wayward magic. He prepared to emerge above the ground, when he heard a faint noise, coupled by what sounded like irregular breathing. It sounded like shuddering, even. Cautiously, he burrowed above ground slowly until his eyes were level a few meters above the bed of snow, watching for any sort of presence around him.

It didn't take long for his eyes to catch something in the distance. A lone white figure trudged through the taiga, the wet sloshing sound of feet digging into the snow for a good quarter-mile between it and the flower. Flowey squinted, staring at the back of the head, making out what looked like a skull and a small stature. It didn't take long for the rest of the details to click. No one else in the Underground fit his description all too closely.

It was the smiling trashbag. The short, fat skeleton, with his back turned, was trekking towards what looked to be the bridge into the sleepy town in the far open distance. Normally, he would've been much easier to spot, even at a distance, but he noticed he wasn't wearing his usual clothes, instead sporting a fancy white shirt and black pants. _Wonder what's the occasion?_  The flower thought snidely, trying to figure out of all monsters to return to Mt. Ebott, why it just so happened to be Sans.

So much for having a welcoming party. There was simply no way in hell he was going to greet his worst enemy. At best, he can only watch him from a distance. He wasn't in the mood to fight anyway.

So he watched and followed, his roots carrying him forward without much effort through the wet snow and soil, all the while wondering why the skeleton came back to the mountain. It was curious, to say the least, and he wanted to savor the moment. It probably wouldn't be another few more years until he came across another interesting thing happening around these parts, so he might as well make the most of it while he can.

 _It's not that I'm lonely. Far from it!_ Flowey tried to convince himself. _I just got bored of doing things on my own, and I guess, it wouldn't be a bad change of pace to have somebody to play around with, even for a short while._

The sloshing sounds made by the skeleton were slow, inconsistent, and sporadic, as if he was drunkenly stumbling through the field of snow. No one had been available to shovel these paths in the last four years, so it would've definitely been a change to anyone who'd try to come back now, Flowey thought. Pricking his senses a little more, he could make out some heavy, labored breathing to accompany the unusual pace. Occasionally, he heard a sniffle here and shudders there, but otherwise, not a word had been uttered since his arrival.

As he thought about it a little bit more, it was pretty ironic in hindsight. It wouldn't be presumptuous at all for Flowey to assume the trashbag had unfinished business to deal with in this mountain. He was bound to come back, one way or another. Out of all the monsters affected by determination and its resets, none were more deeply damaged by it than Mr. Bad Time himself. From the looks of it, it seemed both him and Flowey have skeletons so deep within their respective closets that despite Frisk's attempts to banish them for good, were there to stay indefinitely. They were both effectively chained to this mountain, but with what, remains to be known.

It almost begs the question: were they both truly saved by Frisk?

Flowey grudgingly considered jumping in and introducing himself once again, but it would be too soon at this point to spook his mark, and it was too soon for him to commit suicide by a thorough dunking. Given their last meaningful interaction before his departure, things between them would most definitely get off on a rocky start. He'd have to bide his time, if he wants to rekindle some sort of trust between him and the short bag of bones once again and somehow be on speaking terms with him to be able to do _anything_  with him.

Soon enough, the skeleton had reached the bridge. A cold wind howled across the chasm below, causing the bridge to sway and creak loudly. The last four years of unmaintained exposure didn't do the wood on it justice, as the lacquer had long lost its sheen, the ropes worn with age from the constant pushing and pulling of past winds. The overall structural integrity of it was questionable at best. The patches of slushy snow left on the planked surface were the icing on a very brittle-looking cake.

From a distance, Flowey heard a faint groan, as Sans seemingly clutched at his forehead and gravitated towards one of the bridge posts, supporting himself against it. As the skeleton tried to catch his breath, his hollow eyesockets looked tired somehow, as the slow blinking and the downcast look towards the other side of the bridge hinted at a mixture of physical and mental exhaustion. From how desperately he hung onto that post, it almost seemed like he was ready to give up.

But in some show of determination, he refused. Eventually, Sans let go of the post, and walked precariously across the beginning arc of the bridge, both of his hands gripping on the left side of the ropes as he proceeded slowly. Despite being very light for a skeleton, the bridge creaked much louder than usual, having never supported anything else besides snow in a very long while. As his feet pressed against each plank, the stress given to it made it whine ever so slightly that it sounded like it was going to break out of spite.

The howling of the wind, the noise on the bridge, and Flowey's distance between him and Sans made it hard to hear what was going on. The only thing he could do without being spotted was to watch helplessly as the skeleton struggled to get across to town.

Sans managed to make it past the halfway point, when one of the planks finally decided it had enough, and snapped beneath his right foot. His hands gripped the rope railing ever so tightly as his left foot slipped on the thin film of slush after losing the balance from his right, landing hard on its knee as the sole of his right shoe remained suspended within the new gap that was created from the severed plank, the bisected pieces dangling and swaying over the chasm. The bridge swayed all the while in response, as Sans winced in pain, his breath staggering as he tried to regain his balance once more, carefully rising and moving his right foot forward in a slightly more stable spot in the bridge, rising so he can alleviate the pressure on his left. He quickened the pace a little and, by a hair's breadth, made it across the other side, falling on his hands and knees on the wet snow, panting and heaving.

After a brief moment, Sans's body stopped heaving and collapsed into the snow, his arms giving out as he fell into a motionless heap. Immediately sensing something wrong, Flowey burrowed down and took the long way around, making his way to the bottom of the chasm, tunnelling across, and up the other side at a breakneck speed until he resurfaced just a small distance away from where he is.

Upon closer inspection of his seemingly lifeless body, Sans's eyes were half-open, but his pupils were faint and cloudy, staring into nothing in particular. Sweat matted his forehead, and he seemed conscious enough. Maybe, with some effort, he could push him awake and disappear. He had to make him move into town somehow, so he could find shelter and not die from exposure.

Flowey did so, moving toward his back and giving him a few solid pokes.

"Hey, trash! Get your ass moving!" Flowey grunted. He called out to him a few more times, this time a little closer to where his ear would be, but the lack of response is discouraging. The skeleton stayed put.

Flowey sighed again, frustrated. _What's going on with this guy?_ He took a closer look at his body. Around the front section of his skull, fine lines were embedded against it. Sensing something odd within them, the traces of magic that bound the pieces of bone together seemed new, as if they were healed not too long ago, and needed some work from the body to heal on its own. _Did Sans... break his head open or something?_  That seemed unusual for him. Between the two brothers, Sans was a lot more careful about avoiding this kind of injury. He was frail, after all.

He placed a feeler on his forehead and was astonished to feel intense warmth. It seemed like the onset to a bad fever. He went down to his arms; they were cold and clammy. From the dim quietness around them, the skeleton didn't sound like he was shivering either. That or he was shivering too weakly to produce any sort warmth to maintain his temperature. In any case, he really was beginning to succumb to exposure. Flowey had to do something.

He looked around, and from the distance, he could see the town's long sign a few feet away, next to some houses. He remembered there being a vent outside the general store, so maybe there's a furnace he could use there to warm it up well enough... enough to keep bones barely at room temperature. His vines aren't the most dexterous things around, but it'd have to make do, especially if he had to light matches to start the damn thing up.

Flowey looked at Sans's face again. He looked like an absolute mess. Whatever circumstances that led this bastard to collapse in the middle of nowhere was not of concern to him, but it would suck to see his first encounter in a very long while turn to dust.

Now that's an unsightly thought.

Still, he couldn't believe he was doing this, especially to his worst enemy. His face contorted to the grimmest of annoyances as layers of barbed roots emerged and gingerly wrapped themselves around the skeleton's shoulders, careful not to prick them.

"You owe me for this, you idiot." he muttered under his breath, as he began to pull, dragging the skeleton across the snow from the wastes and into safety.

 

* * *

 

 

**_entry number 6_ **

_came across a decent haul from the dump. alphys knows the good spots. guess i owe her... wonder if she'll like the anime tapes i got of giant robots? they look dated, but whatever. i wasn't into them anyway._

_after drying them up, they were more or less readable, if not sticky. we ended up salvaging..._

_-a book on wave theory_

_-some new-agey booklets. they sounded like bs._

_-a manuscript on hacking phones_

_-a few car magazines_

_-torn-up romance and horror fics (we always find 1 or 2 of these...)_

_-a soggy coloring book_

_paps might like the car magazines, and the wave theory and phone hacking book might be good for some bedtime reading. the rest we tossed out. will take notes in a bit..._

 

**_entry number 7_ **

_findings:_

_\- stimuli: ~~touching it,~~ ~~speaking to it~~ , ~~adding sugar (whatever, this is a brainstorm)~~ , ~~adding salt~~ , ~~light exposure~~ ( ~~uv~~ ), ~~heat~~ , ~~cold~~ , ~~centrifugal force~~ ,_ _humming_ , _singing "frère jacques"_

_the humming was simple, similar to experiment with test tube xylophones. evoked a similar response with the same control/exposed sample set-up (still haven't thrown them out. best to reuse due to limited supply, but will ~~this negatively affect results in the long run???~~ ) repeated use of samples produced very consistent results. no new samples needed. DO NOT THROW OUT OLD SAMPLES FFS!_

_singing was another matter altogether... does it have anything to do with the diff. in complexity between singing and humming? how deep should we go on complexity?_

_\- vocal range_

_\- duration_

_\- volume_

_\- ability (singing vs. noise)_

_\- lyrical content_

_\- intent ("feeling" the song being sung)_

_lots of viable factors to consider. it will take time for me to tailor a proper test to consider them, if there is a proper means for me to cover some or all of them. i suck at singing too, and the longer these tests go, the less credible it's becoming to test on samples alone. i need a larger sample set..._

_humans aren't exactly an abundant supply, but given how frequently we've been seeing them as of late, maybe... i can plead a case for the king for us to keep a live one. it's the only way to confirm that all these theories weren't for nothing._

_if nothing else, monster subjects are our only other alternative. roles will have to be placed depending on the factors given, and the study will have to be thorough enough to differentiate between human results and monster results._

_speaking of results, simple observations are also not enough to indicate results. i need quantifiable information... a new instrument of measurement to determine levels of stimuli vs. impact on the soul. i don't have a credible theory to back one up on, however... i still haven't finished the wave theory book i salvaged the other day, but i think i might be able to use that to put something together once i've grasped the concepts in that book a little better._

_in any case, between humming and singing, there is a very big difference in their impact to the soul. judging from results alone, best to drop humming altogether and consider singing as the most effective stimulus to produce resonance._

_in other news, the old man is ecstatic about the results of my tweak of the DT extraction machine. efficiency skyrocketed from 2% to 78% extracting raw determination when the soul scaffolding is kept intact. distilling it is another matter altogether, but at least we're going a step into the right direction. there is solid buy-in for my research now, and he's off-handedly mentioned offering me whatever resources i need to get the job done. expanding my research shouldn't be too hard to do now, with him on my side._

_but then this means more hours in the lab than before. paps isn't gonna be happy to hear about this..._

 

**_entry number 8_ **

_was finally able to finish the book on wave theory. paps had been good about sleeping on time recently, so i have more reading time to spare. i haven't told him about the extended lab hours i've been taking as a result, but i think he's starting to notice a pattern, which is why he'd been going to bed sooner._

_i'm really sorry about this bro, but breakthroughs like this only come once in a lifetime. i only want your patience until then..._

_ah hell... it's not like he'll be able to read this, anyway..._

_the humans seem to have this theory that energies take the form of waves. the waves themselves are invisible, but can be made visible using special instruments measuring the fundamentals of the wave itself, or naturally, through the medium in which the energy is traveling in, like when dropping something in water, ripples come out, or when something is ignited, fire comes out. this came from a fundamental theory in human science that energy cannot be created or destroyed, but can transform from one state to another. they call this theory the "conservation of energy"._

_our current theories more or less corroborate their findings, but seem to fall apart when applied to the complicated aspects of the soul: the monster's raison d'etre._

_firstly, where a human's soul and its body are two separate components, a monster is comprised only of its soul. our understanding of a soul's inception is as of yet not very thorough, but the current theory is that a soul is created from pieces of another source. the pieces could come from one or many sources, but in the end the created soul is not the sum of its initial parts._

_this soul, when birthed, then projects a tangible body based on its own unique properties using a fundamental aspect of soul energy that produces tangibility from its free-form expression. this aspect of tangibility is what makes monster magic "real". humans don't have this ability, and it's possible that they don't because of the dual-nature of their souls and bodies contradicting each other in forming a similar expression of themselves._

_in other words, a human is not whole in the sense that a monster is a whole._

_at least, that's the prevailing monster theory on what constitutes human biology. as theories, disproving them is an inevitability._

_now secondly, when a human falls down, the soul and body are capable of separation and the body can remain intact while the soul gradually dissipates, but a monster's tangible body will disintegrate into dust as the soul simply ceases to exist, effectively destroying it. the soul's energy is never converted into any other state, and the remnant energy left over from dust is negligible. the properties of monster dust and regular dust is said to be no different from each other, and compared to the human process of decay, which uses transitional shifts of energy states to perform, dusting doesn't require such changes. it's a binary process that is solely caused by the soul's destruction._

_now, while the theory of energy conservation falls flat in the face of soul theory, it may be feasible enough to apply in how souls influence other souls. namely, i have a theory, but it's a weak one. hear me out, ok?_

_so, say a monster sings a song with significant value. this song is expressed through the singer's soul, therefore soul energy is used to convert to kinetic energy that then comes out of the monster. it influences the space between it and the monster hearing it, converting kinetic energy back into gained soul energy. now, because soul energy doesn't fall into the energy conservation theory, over time the lost energy by the singer is replenished over time without need of any other external energy source._

_if soul energy is replenished over time, then what functional need is there for a monster to sing? there are two possible reasons: the first is that the gained soul energy is a "top-up" of existing soul energy. this is possible as there have been a few recorded cases where a monster's stats, such as their HP, ATK, or DEF can rise above the maximum as part of an augmentation process. the second is that the gained soul energy mixes with existing soul energy to produce a small temporary amalgamation that manifests itself as a change in the monster's qualities, physical or mental. The physical changes are hypothetical: there haven't been any recorded instances of that happening yet, and is purely speculative. The mental changes are more apparent than we think: these could be emotional changes, such as feeling sad from a ballad or feeling empowered from a march. a qualitative analysis would have to be done to account for the second reason, which i will cover as it comes._

_to back this theory, a series of tests will be measured by the units provided as part of the existing human theory. the hertz (Hz) is the frequency in which kinetic energy travels through a given space, namely, when a song travels from one monster to another. this will be used to gauge the song's energy as it travels through the air._

_now, to measure the loss and gain of soul energy from one monster to another, we will use the monster unit LP (life point), comparing a before and after value for each test. rather than individual monster stats, we want to focus on something that is core, yet empirical and definitive enough to measure. the only difficult part is that the monster sending and receiving the songs will have to report this stat back with honest accuracy, as the LP stat is only visible to oneself. monsters to be used as test subjects will have to be subject to a background check to make sure that they follow the guidelines of the test to account for this variable and control it as much as we can._

_if the measurements given match up this theory, we can safely assume that it's sound enough for us to build a foundation on and establish the principles of sound science, but at this time, there are a lot of potential weaknesses to this theory. it's a start, nonetheless, and i will need to find a way to apply this theory before i can make further changes to it to solidify things and get a better understanding around this new breakthrough._

 

**_entry number 9_ **

_finally pleaded my case in front of the king with the old man's help. this was my first time getting an audience with him, so obviously i'd be nervous about it. like most monsters, i've only ever seen him at a distance while he proclaimed his ceremonial speeches from atop his pedestal in new home, but never spoken to him directly._

_the result was... not to my expectations, but it wasn't a total failure, either._

_the guy's a fuzzy pushover. that is, as long as you don't push the wrong buttons, he seemed laissez-faire about most things: not really a good impression. as king, i expected him to take his job a lot more seriously than that. sure, he can talk the talk, but whether he can walk the walk or not is now a matter of debate._

_anyway, i asked if he can keep the next human alive as part of the research. it was as straightforward as you can get. being nervous and all, my face and mindset was on "job mode" and so i was pretty mechanical in how i delivered my case, starting with an objective and backing my claims. it seemed, despite that, the king kept a gentle face on, and i could tell he was listening carefully when he repeated most of what i said back at me._

_he ended up refusing the request, as the matter regarding humans was strictly his and the royal guards' domain. that was that. the only thing we get is the soul, as that was the initial agreement between the royal family and the scientists. after all, our initial goal was to use the souls to find a way to break the barrier._

_however, he was willing to provide monster subjects to us. better than nothing, i guess. he was willing to rally up some monsters for the experiments i'm working on, and is asking me to wait a week until then._

_i guess that's half of what i need. being used to scarcity by now, i should just learn to shut up and work with what i have._

_but also being used to scarcity, i should scrounge up what i can find... even if it's royal family property._

_on the way back after splitting up with ______, i made it across the king's house, when i saw some things in a box by a door in the right wing. it was filled with odds and ends... stuff that looked like it belonged to a kid. we're talking stuff like small shoes, a ball, a piece of paper with a crayon drawing on it, and a weird-looking booklet. i took it, and geez... i don't know where to begin with it. i thought it was some kinda puzzle book, but the weird... glyphs??? seemed to follow a pattern enough times to form some kind of word. i wasn't aware of any monster that spoke any other language except the common sort._

_in any case, i guess it wouldn't hurt the king if i borrowed it to look a bit more into it._

_i think i might know a guy who could tell me what this book's all about. maybe, it might tie into what i'm looking for in my research, but that's really farfetched._

_what would some weird old kid's book have anything to do with sound science, anyway?_

 

* * *

 

Within the dark abyss, Sans heard a distant conversation.

_"Hey Sans, what do you think this is?"_

_"hmm?"_

Their voices were eerily familiar, punctuated by the sound of paper being flipped haphazardly.

_"It looks flat and pointy, and it's got something weird in the back."_

_"oh, that's a race car. looks cool, doesn't it?"_

_"Really cool! Even better than the snails in the snail farm."_

_"nah, they're no good. these cars are faster."_

_"How come?"_

_"well, see how flat and pointy they are? that's to let lots of wind through."_

_"Is that why I'm fast?"_

_"huh?"_

_"You said I'm fast because I'm all bones so I let lots of wind through when I run."_

A pause, then a deep chuckle.

_"i said that, didn't i?"_

_"You did."_

_"wanna know how much faster these cars go?"_

_"How fast?"_

_"here, bro. let me show you..."_

Another pause. The abyss gradually got colder for some reason, and he started to hear quick footsteps through freshly-fallen snow.

Were they outside?

_"vroom...! vroom...! zooooooooom!"_

Cries of joy echoed outward. Whatever they were doing, it sounded like a lot of fun.

_"watch out for that turn!"_

_"Oh no! We gotta hit the brakes!"_

_"errrrkk--!"_

There was a loud thump. Whatever they hit, it was hard, but somewhat pliable, causing the ground to shake a bit. It sounded like they bumped into a tree. The sound of rustling and something sloughing off shortly after sounded much like snow that had fallen off some of its branches. It didn't seem like they got hurt by it though, as Sans heard some giggling shortly afterward.

_"That was fun! Let's do it again!"_

_"ugh... gimme a sec, ok."_  the same voice was catching his breath for a good long while, but was immediately startled by something. Sans wasn't sure what was going on.

Inside his cold, dark interior, he felt a semblance of warmth. It was warm enough for him to feel.

It felt... nostalgic. He couldn't help but clutch at his chest in some vain attempt to want to hold onto it. To keep it for as long as he could.

_"hm? what's up?"_

_"We have to go back to the lab soon, don't we?"_

A long breath.

_"i'm afraid so, paps."_

_"I don't get to see you all the time anymore. It's lonely when you're never around, brother."_

_"i know, bro."_ another pause. _"let me talk to the old man. see if i can get some days off."_

_"You always say that."_

_"i know. i'm sorry."_  a sigh. _"i keep making a lot of stupid promises, don't i?"_

After a momentary silence, there were sounds of rustling through the snow. It seemed like the disembodied voice was getting up.

 _"c'mere, bro."_ it sounded like a request for a hug. Sans's felt sad as he heard it for some reason, like he was sensing a loss.

The same warmth within him remained, regardless.

_"Can we do this again?"_

_"we will. one day, we could do this all day if we want to."_

_"Is that a promise?"_

One more pause. It was brief enough to border on hesitation.

 _"i promise."_ it seemed impulsive of him to say, but at the same time, he wanted to believe that it was a promise that he can keep. He had to keep it. The warmth inside him almost demanded that he fulfill it. This was his love reaching out to touch him. To make him feel again.

To give him hope.

Subconsciously, Sans felt his mouth open to speak.

"i love you, bro."

_"I love you too, Sans."_

Realizing what he'd just said, Sans opened his eyes, banishing the darkness around him.

He was met instead with a strange dimness, with a faint light shining beneath his feet. Trying to make heads or tails of where he is now, he tried to stir his body. A stiff pain shot from his spine through his neck, making him wince.

 _How long had I been out this time?_ Wherever he'd fallen asleep, it probably wasn't the most comfortable. Judging from the flexible hardness of the surface, that uncomfortable spot must be a wooden floor.

As his eyes settled on the darkness of the new environment, the wooden slats on the ceiling and the empty shelves that gradually became visible on the far wooden wall began to take on a shade of familiarity. Rifling through his memories, he could've sworn the place was much brighter, merrier, and cozier than when he remembered it. Slowly, he realized where he was now.

He was back in Mt. Ebott, inside the general store in the frontier town of Snowdin. It took him a while to remember, but as he fled from his brother some time ago, the only thing that was on his mind was to get as far away as possible. He wanted to run. The only place that he'd felt was a sanctuary that he called his own had been destroyed, and in his grief, he desperately wanted to find a new one. When his eye triggered, the first thing in his mind that was far away and could pass for one was the very mountain that he was in now.

The skeleton scoffed bitterly. It was ironic that the one place he'd call a sanctuary was once the place that imprisoned him and his kind in the first place.

It didn't take long for him soon afterward to realize how drained he'd felt, jumping such an astonishing distance from the city to the mountain. It only made his head feel worse than it did moments ago. He recalled finding it harder and harder to think over time, as the grief took a firm hold of him. He didn't know where he was going, but his feet seemed to know. Everything got hazier from there.

He last remembered crossing the bridge before collapsing in the snow. If he was indoors now, did he finally reach Snowdin without realizing it?

And if he'd collapsed in the snow? Who brought him in?

And whoever brought him in, did they somehow cure him of his headache? Is this why he's able to think clearly again?

Now even more puzzled, the skeleton tried to move his limbs to stand upright and get a better view of his surroundings, but before he could bring them up halfway, an opposing force brought them down against the floor once again. He felt his knucklebones slam against the hardwood. Sans winced again, hard, feeling the pain shoot throughout his body, making him writhe. He realized that he had a hard time moving his legs as well, constrained by a similar force.

"ow!" the skeleton cried, confused as to how or what was binding his arms and legs down. Whatever it was, it constricted painfully, prickling him, even.

"Took you long enough." a squeaky voice greeted him. It was eerily familiar. "How was the beauty sleep?"

The skeleton's pupils shrunk, realizing that he wasn't alone in the room. He froze momentarily before collecting himself once again to respond to the voice.

He'd recognize that voice from anywhere.

"i thought you were--"

"Dead?" the flower finished his sentence. He calculated enough possibilities for Sans's first reaction to him, that the fact that the third most likely probability occurred irked him a little, next to an insult and a full-blown fight contending for second and first. He hoped the skeleton would put up some sort of a fight so he could get the opportunity to put him in his place. After all, there's nothing like a little show of force to feel that satisfying rush of power from within. "Nah, Frisk saved everyone, remember?"

"then--"

"I was forced to release all the souls I accumulated, so..." he chuckled ironically. "I'm a flower again."

"heh..." Sans didn't know what else to say. He picked up on the irony pretty quickly.

"Fancy meeting you here too."

The fire in the small furnace-oven that sported racks that were once used to bake Cinnamon Bunnies crackled and spat, making the silence much less awkward than it should be, instead making the mood a bit more pensive, as both the skeleton and the flower tried to figure out what to say to each other next. Was a reintroduction in order, or should they throw insults at each other? Splayed out with his limbs restrained, Sans couldn't exactly toss bones around, but he didn't have a clear view of the flower, so he can't turn him blue either. Meanwhile, the flower tried to figure out whether he should start off meek, or majestic, as what a self-respecting flower should be.

He decided to go for the latter.

"So... what brings you to my domain?" the flower began, figuring he could start with an inquiry. It never hurt anyone to ask neutral questions, after all.

Sans scoffed again. "your domain?"

"All the monsters are gone, so I rule this mountain now by default." the flower winked, despite the skeleton seeing nothing but the ceiling and the high walls around it. "Snazzy, huh?"

"yeah, sounds like you've got a nice monarchid for yourself here." the bad puns had begun. "what are you gonna rule? snow and trees?"

"Still got the touch, huh?" though annoyed, Flowey figured he might as well compliment the skeleton. He'd recovered surprisingly quickly. Flowey had made the effort to heal the faults in the skeleton's skull entirely, at least, to accelerate the healing process before he restrained his limbs. The lesser stress on the body in terms of healing would also mean the fever should leave as soon as it appeared. It wouldn't work out well for him to wait out the sickness entirely, so he wasn't exactly doing this out of the goodness of his heart. He wanted to groom a potential thrall as soon as possible.

"oh yeah. always was a perennial for punny opportunities."

"Huh. Good to know." Flowey grinned smugly. "But y'know, maybe this will change your tune with me a little." the sound of paper rustling could be heard in the distance. Sans's pupils narrowed again in panic.

How could he have forgotten something so important so soon? He recalled slipping the Faith file underneath his shirt before he ran away, and was careful not to get it wet on the snow when he arrived, at least, until he collapsed.

One thing's for sure: the file wasn't underneath his shirt anymore. The stinking flower had it now.

The skeleton shut up immediately.

"I knew I'd get your attention." the flower's squeaky voice was filled with mirth, despite having yet to switch to his more demonic tone. "The fact that I found this under your shirt probably meant this was really important stuff, so just to be sure you're listening to me, I'll hold onto these for now."

"go ahead, pal. it's not like you can understand anything in there anyway." Sans bluffed.

"It's funny you'd say that." Flowey replied, calling it out immediately. "But you'd be surprised at how much I know." he gazed at the contents of the file, laid out before him in front of the furnace as they dried up. Most of the pages are still legible despite the slight water damage. Fortunately, the cardboard folio that bound them all together took the brunt of the moisture, and was too wet to be salvageable anymore, now having the integrity of a wet noodle.

"oh, yeah?" Sans was skeptical, but tested the waters anyway. "indulge me."

In his field of vision, a glossy purple booklet took Flowey's eye, and he picked it up. The Delta Rune situated prominently on it rang some bells. He'd paroused it earlier, but hadn't really taken the time to investigate its contents entirely, having favored reading through the little notebook earlier instead. Recalling its contents, it was a struggle making out the chickenscratch scrawled on each leaf, but once he was able to figure the words out, the intent was clear: they were research notes for something. Something related to the soul, songs, and the mechanism used by songs to influence the soul.

The concept seemed very familiar to Flowey, but he couldn't place where he'd drawn the familarity from. Rifling through his memories produced nothing at this point. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but be impressed at how thorough the research was. It seems he'd underestimated how much of an idiot the trashbag was. There was definitely more to him than meets the eye. That is, if he was the one that actually put all this together. The shitty handwriting was a telling sign, but he had to be a lot more sure than that.

Not that he'd admit all of that, of course. The skeleton was and is still an idiot all the same.

"This is a hymnal..." the flower's words trailed off as he examined the contents of the purple booklet. A wave of nostalgia suddenly washed over him as he saw strange, yet familiar glyphs written on its pages. It took a while, but like an alphabet, the glyphs formed words to him that were as clear as the light off Judgement Hall. The words greeted him like an old friend, waiting to be read and waiting to be expressed in full. He expected something to well up from inside him. He expected an epiphany to strike him of the words' true intent. He wasn't sure why he's expecting it, but it felt like he'd done it a thousand times before, like a trace of some kind of practiced mental trigger.

But instead, he was met with a hollowness that couldn't be filled. Without a soul to call his own, the words themselves can never reveal their true intent to him if he were to express them, whether he desired it or not. With hollowness, only came a profound sadness, like the kind of sandness garnered from loss.

He knew this, because these words were comprised of a language that he was once very fluent in.

As he turned each page and read each word, he began to lose himself within them. It was like he'd seen these words before. He recalled reciting the entire booklet a long time ago, when he once had a soul. He couldn't remember why, though. Aside from knowing that these words carried an intent, he wasn't sure what their purpose was. In fact, he wouldn't be too far off if this booklet was actually his to begin with. That was how strong the familiarity was. It only served to frustrate him, knowing the what, and somewhat knowing the how, but not knowing the why.

Reflecting back on what he'd read on that notebook and seeing what he was seeing in the purple booklet that he had in his possession, it started to make sense as to what this research was all about. Everything had clicked into place within his mind. Questions formed in his head, and they begged to be answered right away. Manipulating the skeleton didn't mean much to him anymore, and the motivation to fool around with him had long passed. Satisfying his burning curiosity regarding this hymnal took precedence instead.

Flowey closed the booklet, glaring at the skeleton, eyeing him suspiciously.

"This hymnal is royal family property." Flowey began abruptly. "How'd you get your filthy hands all over it?"

Sans was caught off-guard by the sudden change in Flowey's demeanor. He stared blankly at nowhere in particular for a while, before blinking and answering.

"why does it matter?"

That seemed to be the wrong answer. The binds on his arms and legs grew tighter, and started to prick at the bone, causing him to grunt in pain.

"Answer the question." Flowey commanded, his voice thick.

"ghh--i... i don't know, ok?" Sans rasped, feeling as if his wrists are going to crack and his leg bones are going to dislocate. "musta been... a long time ago. long before the... resets."

"And the notebook?"

"it's the only thing... helping me remember. nhgg--!"

"Hmph." the flower made a sidelong glance, relaxing his grip. The skeleton caught his breath in turn, writhing in the aftermath of excruciating pain.

After the pain had gone, Sans was ready to speak again.

"why are you so worked up all of a sudden?" the stout skeleton asked, furrowing his nonexistent brow in some attempt to restore his own dignity as a captive. "i thought this was supposed to be your carrot on a stick?"

"Huh?" the flower seemed puzzled.

"you're supposed to be blackmailing me with whatever you took from me, is that correct?"

"Uhh... yeah. Right." as if struck by amnesia, it seemed that Flowey had forgotten why he tied down the skeleton in the first place.

"then why the change of heart?"

It took a while before Flowey tried to answer. "I... I recognize this hymnal."

"oh..." Sans wasn't sure what to say next. "that's great, i guess. dare i ask why?"

"The pages are written in a language called Hymmnos." the flower explained. "It's very complicated, but the long and short of it is that only those the Dreemurs deem worthy can learn and master it." he felt himself shiver as he spoke. Flowey couldn't figure out why exactly, but as he reflected back on the words that he saw, and recited the hymns within the booklet in his mind, the sadness that he'd experienced earlier refused to leave him. Little by little, the desire to acquire a soul pulled strongly inside him once again. The mental trigger that embedded itself within his mind refused to yield until the desire to express those very words were fulfilled.

"huh... good to know."

Flowey sighed. His grip slackened and the vines retracted, and soon, Sans could no longer feel the constriction binding him down. Slowly, he sat up, feeling at his wrists with a mild annoyance and checking his feet for marks before standing once again, getting a better view of the general store around him: empty shelves, counters, and drab walls faintly illuminated by an orange flame coming from inside the furnace-oven just a few steps away, where Flowey was.

Flowey was affixed before the flame, his back against Sans, surrounded by all the pages and files from the Faith file around him. In one of his feelers was the purple booklet that he had just now called a hymnal.

"Whatever. I don't feel like doing this anymore." Flowey said dismissively. "Get outta here."

Sans didn't move. Instead, he crossed his arms, looking down on the mutant flower.

"i'm not going anywhere till i get my stuff back." the skeleton demanded. The flower hunched over slightly.

"Don't push your luck, trash." Flowey growled.

"i didn't come here just to leave empty-handed." Sans laid a hand out. "hand them over."

"Are you telling me you have a death wish?" the flower's voice had taken on a demonic twinge, his body trembling.

"are you trying to scare me off?" Sans's voice became stern. "cause it's not working."

"Please. Go away."

"nope."

"I'm begging you."

"not till i get my stuff back."

"It's mine."

"ok, now this is getting childish." the skeleton took a few steps closer to the flower, bending down to reach for the pages scattered around him, when Flowey turned and extended himself until he was barely a meter before Sans's face, startling him.

The skeleton was met with a tear-streaked, yet menacing-looking face, with eyes so hollow, it almost reflected his own soul.

"It's mine!" Flowey cried. "All of it's mine! NOW GET OUT!" before Sans could anticipate them, wayward vines launched upward behind Flowey beneath the wooden floor, thrusting themselves against the skeleton's left side with such a force that it launched him across the store interior and out one of the front windows with a crash, spinning and landing face-first into the slushy snow.

Quickly coming to, Sans shook the chunks of snow off his face as he got up to face the store exterior. What was a drab storefront due to the deafening silence of the sleepy town, was now marred with a broken window, the scattered shards of glass difficult to tell apart from the melting mounds of snow on the ground. It left a damning mark in what was once a warm, peaceful town.

Nevertheless, he was undaunted about leaving empty-handed. There was a reason he arrived here with that file. With all the clues in the notebook pointing to things that have happened within the mountain, it became more important than ever that he held onto them in his attempt to rediscover the purpose of all the research and where its results have pointed to before it stopped altogether.

He needed to figure out what happened and why this project had ceased operations. And wherever it led him, he had to finish what he started. He had to, at whatever cost it would take. The urgency hung over his head like a dark cloud for quite some time now, and now that he's out of a job to procrastinate with, he couldn't keep it at bay any longer.

What he didn't anticipate with this plan was the weed being in the way. He hadn't anticipated anyone still being around the mountain, but it seemed he was wrong.

As he pushed at the door handle to the general store, he was met with a force keeping the door shut. The stupid flower had barred the door with more vines. Frustration welling inside him, Sans attempted to push, pound, and later bodyslam the door, but it was no use.

With frustration giving way to desperation, the skeleton stepped back a fair distance, and with a solid trust of his arm, attempted to ram the door with a succession of conjured bones at high speed. When that didn't work, he turned to Gaster Blasters to blow it open. The doorway was burnt off cleanly, but the vines solidified in such a way that not even his magic can pierce through the seemingly tough plant hide that comprised it. Passively, he wondered just how the bastard can pull off something so tough.

Then he noticed the other window to the store. More vines were laid out to bar it, preventing him from coming in that direction either. The broken window earlier was barred similarly. There was simply no way through. Sans had lost this fight, if one could even call it a fight.

Lost and distraught at his defeat, the skeleton cursed his misfortune, kicking at the snow before him before slumped down beside the burnt-open doorway, huddling with his knees to where his ribcage was.

He was not getting back those files anytime soon. Whatever temper tantrum the flower was in, he had no choice but to wait it out. Hell, it'd be a miracle if the weed decided not to burn the files altogether after he was finished with them. It would probably help him if he didn't dwell on that possibility, knocking on wood in the hopes of avoiding that fate.

Without those files, using the notebook to figure out his next steps is a moot point.

Sans was on his own on this one.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait on this one. Given the time of year, I've only been allowing myself time to continue writing this once a week. Any other time and I'm usually too exhausted to put energy on this fic. Nonetheless, I'm determined to move forward with this, even if it's at such a sluggish pace. Hopefully there's still an audience out there who'd be willing to keep on reading. Thanks for your support otherwise.
> 
> This chapter was difficult to put together. I think the fact that I'm essentially writing two parallel plotlines makes it hard to balance out how they will both come out. I've got an loose outline put together of both, but I think I'd need to be more specific in order to have a better idea on how both lines will move forward so I'm not constantly blocking myself as I keep on trucking along.
> 
> Just thinking aloud, I guess. Stay tuned.


	5. lost legacy

In the pitch-black darkness of the ransacked general store, humongous green vines entwined themselves within every possible surface imaginable, dripping sickly pungent sap. The hours had passed slowly, and the flame inside the furnace oven had since died out, the last of its fuel spent.

In the midst of it, Flowey hummed a faint, yet familiar tune to himself.

It was a tune that once reminded him of brighter days, lying among the yellow flowers Dad tended to with the utmost care. Mom was there, hymnal in hand, patiently reciting the words with him, her words as sweet and as wholesome as the butterscotch-cinnamon pies she always made.

He concentrated on that moment of youthful joy. He yearned for it; thirsted for those days to come once again. Flowey wanted a sign, despite the twisted things he had done, that he was still Asriel Dreemurr, deep down inside. He wanted to be normal again. After having given up a long time ago, a hope welled up inside him that reignited this long-abandoned desire.

Mom once told him that when all didn't seem right with the world, all he had to do was open his heart and sing those same familiar words she taught him. Those words once comforted him, and caressed him the same way his favorite blanket did when she tucked him in night after night. It warmed his soul and gave him peace like no other.

The words that she taught him sounded like complete nonsense to the untrained soul, but when one is in accord with oneself, their true essence shines true: more rich and comprehensive in its expression than any spoken language known to monster or human.

Those who can comprehend understand not only the thoughts and feelings of the one who sung the hymn, but also their very identity: who and what they are, in their purest form. Those who sing the language of Hymmnos have nothing to hide. They can't anyway, because they have no reason to. To sing from the soul is to sing with a pure intent. To open one's heart in this manner is a show of vulnerability. To a monster, to show vulnerability is to show one's true strength.

But try as he might, there was nothing. Flowey had no soul. Without it, he can't feel those same feelings he once felt as a monster child. To love, to laugh, to feel sad, and to reciprocate such feelings in turn, he could only imitate the act as a wretched flower, but their significance is paper-thin; lifeless. Without an attunement to his emotions, and without any fundamental link to his soul, he can't sing. It was as simple as that.

Knowing that, he sighed again dejectedly, and gazed at the files that were laid out before him, now strewn about in the bedlam of gooey vines. His thoughts gravitated towards the smiling trashbag, and how intent he was at getting them back.

 _What exactly was Sans looking for?_ With the kind of information that was documented in these files, it didn't occur to Flowey until now whether or not they were after the same thing. It shouldn't have been that hard to figure out. The lazy, messy handwriting, the hymnal, and the code-switching phonetic table pointed to an intent of his on discovering something... something that seemed related to the very art that he knew.

In hindsight, it had only been a matter of time before someone became curious about it, because singing Hymmnos tapped into something fundamental within a monster, more so than singing a regular song in the common tongue, and it's not like regular monsters can't learn the language; the art was simply passed down exclusively within the Dreemurr clan, with the reasoning for it having been lost to time.

He actually didn't know what to call it: the transfer of energy that was mentioned in the stout skeleton's notes, but based on his scientific rationale, it seemed like he was going the right direction in figuring it out. As a language that exposes and promotes vulnerability, the energy used when singing was definitely meant to empower another.

The thing that he missed, however, is that this "other" doesn't have to be another living creature, and "self" can replace "other" within the same context.

Right now, that same skeleton seemed lost on what to do next. As was himself, and they both have valuable information that they can share with each other. It only seemed natural what he should do, if he wants to sing again.

It's obvious what he should do, if he wants to be normal again.

 _Should I help him?_  Flowey thought, but then snorted indignantly. _Whatever, like we'd ever get along._  It would be difficult to regain Sans's trust, given their bad history together. On top of the warm welcome he gave him just now, would he even have any trust left to spare him, much less give?

After a few more minutes of mulling it over, Flowey sighed again. Stretching a small vine from the ground, Flowey picked up the coveted files in one whole bundle and set off, burrowing beneath the broken floorboards of the ransacked storefront that he'd taken a hand in destroying.

 

* * *

 

In the silent darkness of Snowdin, cold, pristine footsteps in the snow went down the road and into the back of a large two-story house; as devoid of life and as stagnant as the rest of the town. Beneath the snowy ground, the fluorescent lighting of Sans's laboratory buzzed with a dim, artificial white light as the stout skeleton huddled on the tiled floor against the countertop, damp, hollow-eyed and silent.

He'd been starving, having voluntarily skipped breakfast and ran away from the Surface, and struggled moments ago to find something to eat. He thought about taking refuge at Grillby's instead, but knowing him, he probably cleaned out every nook and cranny. There wouldn't be any leftovers to eat there.

Fortunately, he wasn't as prim and proper, and was able to find a six-pack of beer in one of the drawers underneath the steel counter, with only four cans left and the aluminum tops dusty from the last four years it'd been sitting there in the darkness. It was flat, and it tasted awful, but if Sans knew one thing, it's that beer on an empty stomach is good enough to be food given the right situation.

At least, despite the Underground being deserted, the Core still had juice to power the lights above him. As Sans lost track of the hours, the flickering lights continued to keep him company. It made him feel at home.

 _I'm likin' this._  Sans thought. _This is fine._ At least, in the Underground things were much simpler. Predictable. He knew his way around every interaction, every pathway, every nook and cranny within the place he once called home. When things were predictable, he felt safe. He felt comfortable and secure, knowing that nothing bad's going to happen as long as he said and did the right things. If he didn't, well, there was always a reset to make it all better once again.

But it's not like he was doing very poorly in the Surface; far from it. He just... took a long time to adjust to it all. When things were as unpredictable as it was up there, and he feels like he's winging it every single day, Sans couldn't help but yearn to have at least someplace where he had permanence and stability.

He thought Grillby's would have just that. He thought Papyrus would be the one to give him just that.

But he went and took it away: the one place where he could feign normalcy. The place where despite there being humans around, it was as close to the Undeground as he could get. He could fuck up from time to time, but even though there was no reset, at least the patrons were drunk enough to forget what had happened the night before, or Sans would never see them again. Grillby was the same old guy, and from a distance, he could entertain himself and observe how he interacted with the human employees, so he can figure out how he can best approach his own interactions with humans outside of work.

It look Sans a long time to get used to the routine he'd set for himself on the job, but thanks to it, after the first year and a half of being a relative shut-in, he was finally able to leave the house on his own instead of being frequently escorted by his brother or by Frisk without feeling on edge.

It's not like Sans wasn't trying. He really was, but while it was happening at such a snail's pace, everyone else was running circles around him that they failed to notice anything.

Sans's hands shook with the pain of betrayal once again. From his right hand, he crushed the beer can he'd drained in its entirety a moment ago, clenching his teeth as he felt the rage course through him. Thoughts about grabbing his brother by the neck bones came to him. He wanted to toss him to the ground and yell at his naive little face.

He wanted to ask him: _why?_

_Why?_

_Why?!_

_WHY?!_

_WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?!!_

Muttering a curse under his breath, he flung the crushed can at no specific direction. The can left his hand and launched off at an angle to his far left, disturbing the oversized grey tarp at the far corner of the room before clattering audibly on the tiled ground.

As the tarp stirred, the contraption within creaked audibly, snapping Sans out of the murderous trance he was in. His white pupils returned, and his dark fantasies dissipated immediately, replaced with a strong pang of guilt. Gradually, the thought of hurting his dear brother made him sick. He huddled within himself a bit closer, pressing his palms against his sockets as he felt depraved at the thoughts that had plagued his mind. How dare he even think such things...? 

Papyrus... despite his faults and naiveté, he would never... **_ever_** , do things just to spite him. How could he think otherwise?! _He meant well, y'know?_  Sans tried to convince himself. _It just... never occurred to him what would happen. How could he know? You never say anything to him!_

**_Well? Are you just going to sit there?! Talk to me, damn it!_ **

Papyrus's words rang in his mind as it struck him. In his rage, he backhanded his brother across his cheekbones, betrayed and hurt by his actions. The stunned expression on his brother's face afterward barely scratched the surface on the kind of pain he'd just inflicted on him.

The guilt etched itself deeper inside him. Resigned to his fate, Sans's arms fall to the ground, his posture relaxing as he gazed up to the ceiling, etching a small wry grin across his face.

"i really am a terrible brother, aren't i?" Sans said, sighing. The lights buzzed indifferently in response.

Then shortly after, a knocking on the door above. Sans's grin faded.

As far as he knew, no one else was living in the Underground. That knock could only mean one thing.

That said, should he even bother opening the door for that flowery freak?

 _The pages are written in a language called Hymmnos._  He recalled Flowey say earlier. _...only those the Dreemurrs deem worthy can learn and master it._  If that was the case, how come he never recalled it ever being mentioned by the royal family? Has Toriel or Asgore ever mentioned anything about it, or even spoke it to the rest of the family? Was it some sort of secret language that only the royal family knew? How come, despite reading the contents of the Faith file, he still couldn't recollect anything about such a language?

Is it even a real language? 

Were his memories of the past much blurrier than he thought it was? Having experienced countless resets, it was plausible that his memories had long deformed into a jumbled mess, but this... this is absurd.

Was Flowey fucking with him? If he really was, then why did he suddenly break his usual twisted character when he saw the hymnal he'd brought in? Why did he seem so... attached to it? Is he somehow connected to all of this, when he stole all of it from him? At this point, the convincing display of actions stacked against his debilitating suspicions, but his conscience refused to concede. If the resets taught him anything, it was that the flower should never be trusted.

 _Either he's going to stab me in the back, or I do it._  Sans reaffirmed his stance on the matter silently, as he gazed downward. _Either way, he has what I need, and I need it back._  He wasn't even sure if the flower still had them. There's a good chance he might've destroyed them already, but given his sentimental reaction to them, some faint hope rested inside him that he could still get them back.

But can he? It's been a long time since he'd fought anything. If the past five years were any indication, his magic may have atrophied a bit more than he could gauge it. Fighting him would be suicidal, so maybe talking him down might suffice? But he doesn't have a leg to stand on with this flower. Whatever leverage he had was gone as soon as he'd taken the files from him. He can't exactly bluff, either. This is like going into high-stakes poker without any money.

There's always the option of running, but where? It would only be a matter of time before he caught up with him. There aren't many places for him to lie low in the Underground. Even if he was able to shake him off, what then? He wouldn't be any closer to where he was in the first place. Running would only be counterproductive.

If there's anything Sans has left, it's faith. Faith in luck, at least. It's got to be better than nothing at all. _There's got to be a good reason why I'm still alive, after having done something so reckless._

Sans lifted his head and sat up reluctantly, brushing off his still-damp work clothes. They were starting to cling onto his skeletal body, and started to feel clammy and uncomfortable. Putting his bellyaching aside, the skeleton slowly made his way up the stairs to the door.

He stopped short of holding onto the doorknob. He can probably make it work in his favor if they talked through the door instead.

After all, it worked on Tori.

"knock knock." Sans began.

A pause.

"Who's there?" a familiar voice replied, a bit too honeyed to fool him. He'd suspected as much.

"faith." the skeleton said, forcing a grin.

"Faith who?"

Sans struggled to come up with something.

"if you don't show me just a little bit of faith, i just might end you through this door here and now."

Silence.

"That's it?" Flowey replied. "That's all you can come up with?"

"ehh..." Sans shrugged. "not really in a joking mood right now." he shuffled in place. "so... you gonna give it back to me, or what?"

"Wow." Flowey scoffed in utter bewilderment. "Unbelievable. I thought you were smarter than you looked."

Sensing the air change, Sans took a half-step back as a pair of vines broke out from opposite ends of the door. The skeleton reeled his right arm back, conjuring a sharp femur then trusting it forward, stopping desperately short before Flowey's smiling face burst through the door, greeting the startled skeleton with utmost glee.

"You're in absolutely no position to bargain with me." Flowey chuckled innocently. "As I said, I rule this mountain now. I take what I want, and nothing escapes me." he didn't seem fazed by the sharp object staring him in the eyes.

Sans's arm started to tremble, and the flower grinned in response, smelling his fear. This fight was over once again, before it began.

"t-then what do you want with me?" Sans dared ask, gripping the femur harder in some futile attempt to be threatening, finally drawing the flower's attention to it.

"Oh, put that thing down!" the vine on Sans's left swatted the bone out of Flowey's face, disintegrating it immediately. "I'm not here to kill you, stupid. If I wanted to, I would've done it hours ago."

"h-huh..." the skeleton chuckled in defeat, loosening his arm, but maintaining a guarded stance. "that's reassuring." his voice said otherwise.

"Now, yeah..." the other vine went on top of Flowey's head to scratch a petal. "I'm gonna cut to the chase: To answer your question, I'm going to need your help."

Sans was struck dumb by those words. Every suspicion he had about what was going to happen and what will happen was shattered in an instant.

"you want... my help?" as the words escaped his mouth, he felt the cold, wet tendril on his left smack him across the face, as if to shake him out of his delirium. It worked, after a short moment of collecting himself.

"You're starving, aren't you" the flower asked, examining the poor, pathetic skeleton before him, wearing damp clothes.

The skeleton nodded sullenly.

"I thought so. Boy, you're a lot more annoying to talk to when you're like this." Flowey sighed in exasperation. "Look, I'll get you something to eat, but let's put our figurative knives down while we're at it. Sound good?"

Sans closed his eyes, nodding weakly.

As much as he hated to admit it, the unexpected truce was... relieving.

 

* * *

 

"so, let me get this straight." Sans sat cross-legged on the laboratory floor, taking a large bite out of a crab apple in his hand. The coveted Faith files were now laid out before him once again, slightly moist from plant sap, but readable nonetheless. "you're telling me, there's a secret sect within the royal family?"

Flowey nodded. As he rooted himself on the opposite side of the pile, he counted the number of crab apples the skeleton had gone through as he took the time to pore over the files he returned to him. That was his seventh. He'd wolfed down the first four like it was the end of the world.

Against his usual principles, he'd extended an olive branch to his sworn enemy. The thought of having done it sickened him a little. Flowey thought it was good enough that he saved this piece of trash from reckless exposure, but now that the circumstances have changed, he'd found himself asking for his help.

What a strange world this has been.

"and... this sect, spoke a secret language that no one but the inner circle knew about?" the skeleton continued. "a language based on singing?"

The flower nodded again. Sans snorted skeptically, turning his head. Obviously, given the circumstances, a bombshell like this was hard to believe, let alone comprehend.

"I've said what I needed to say, and the notes; which was in your handwriting I might add, said just as much." Flowey asserted.

"then why do i find all this hard to believe?" some color had returned to Sans's face as he struggled to comprehend. The food was doing its job. "first you hold me hostage--"

"Healed you." Flowey corrected him. Sans glared back, taking a momentary breath.

"first you hold me hostage." he reiterated, his voice more stern this time. "then you make notions that you want to mess with me, then you take what's mine, and now you're saying you want to help me help you?" his sockets narrowed and his pupils disappeared, glaring at the flower intensely. "i could give a **fuck**  about helping you. **why should i?** "

Flowey gulped. Of course this wasn't going to be easy. He averted his gaze from the skeleton.

"Yeah, you're right." Flowey started, making eye contact once again. "You have no reason to help me. Heck, I really was going to mess with you. I haven't had a playmate since this place got deserted ages ago. I've only got Echo Flowers to keep me company now. Messes you up after a while."

"oh? how sad." the glare remained focused straight at the flower, as his voice punctuated the room, commanding immediate silence.

The lights continued to flicker in awkwardness around them.

Flowey struggled to find something else to talk about. 

"W-well... They did it, didn't they." he started again. "Frisk finally decided to close this chapter of this story. Saved everyone, and hadn't reset in five years. Doesn't that sound great?"

He paused.

"Aren't you happy?"

It took a while, but Sans's pupils eventually reappeared, downcast. He tightened expression became slightly forlorn. He didn't answer.

"Figures. I'm not too happy about it either." Flowey took it for a no. "It doesn't feel right. It could mean a thousand things. Or it could mean nothing at all. Either way, you're here. There's gotta be a good reason why."

Sans's pupils shifted towards the files.

"I never did peg you to be the one to like change. Papyrus said as much. Boy, your brother never did shut up whenever I wanted to know more about you. I knew then, it was a matter of time before you dragged your sorry ass back here. Whether because you couldn't handle the Surface heat, or you had yet another huge fight with your brother, it didn't matter."

Sans's eyes shifted back towards Flowey's.

"You know, for someone who I thought was so smart, you're actually very predictable."

Gazing sullenly at the creature before him, Sans couldn't shake off his utter distrust for it. As far as he was concerned, the bastard had done too many horrible things for him to forgive and forget. What is there to reconcile?

His glare returned, and his left pupil began to change to a bluish hue.

"What? We can't be friends?" Flowey grimaced. "I'm trying really hard here, buddy. Can't you at least do the same? Can't we let bygones be bygones?"

A large bone jutted at an angle from the floor, its pointed end just an inch close to where Flowey's throat would be.

"Hey, I thought we were supposed to put the knives down!" Flowey protested. "I was doing you a favor, you know!"

"how kind." Sans said. "who said either of us played fair?" a bunch more jumped in a neat array, surrounding the flower. One wrong move with his stem, and he could give himself a pretty messy prune.

"you didn't answer my question earlier." he gripped at this half-eaten crab apple, the traces of his jaw forming a scowl. "let's add another one: why should i trust you? give me one good reason why i shouldn't kill you where you stand."

"because as far as redemption is concerned, you and i are way past that fucking line."

"Sheesh, seems you're in an even worse mood than I pegged for." the threatened flower quipped. "That bad, huh?"

Sans didn't bother to comment. Instead, the bones jutted ever closer to Flowey's main stem. Whatever little progress he made in trust-building was quickly undoing itself each time he opened his mouth.

"Ugh, alright already! I'll cut it out. I'll cut the sass. Happy?"

No response.

"I'll explain everything one more time, but you gotta give me some room." Flowey tried to negotiate. "I don't work well under pressure."

"hmph." the bones retracted a good inch and a half. It was a bit more generous than the flower had hoped for. "this better be good."

"Thanks." Flowey cleared his throat, as he began to recall. "So, yeah, let's start with what you don't know: a legend."

The skeleton's brow furrowed in annoyance, but he listened reluctantly. If he was going to kill the flower, he might as well be entertained while he's at it.

Flowey closed his eyes pensively, and began to recite.

 

_Long ago, at the dawn of this land, an angel fell down._

_In the cold earth, she saw pitiful creatures, wandering with emptiness in their souls, besieged and oppressed by Mankind._

_The opposite of their counterparts, they were known as Monsterkind._

_Pitying them, she sought to help. 'Within their souls lie a power to change this world.’ she said._

_So she gave Monsterkind the power of song, that they may be able to express themselves to the fullest, and reconnect with Man._

_At first, they failed understand this newly-gotten power. Little by little, they practiced their craft, Mankind ever wary of their newfound gift._

_Soon, Monsterkind commanded the storms, parted the seas, ruptured the earth, and breathed fire. After eons of suffering, now they ruled the land._

_Mankind fled in fear of hiding, hunted and killed in vengeance. Alas, Monsterkind was corrupted by their gift._

_In their childish hubris, each thought they could change the world in their image, and soon they turned on one another._

_Battle after battle was fought, until the seas became dry and the earth was scorched black and covered in dust, unable to bear life._

_The angel was saddened. She thought she gave them what they needed the most, but in the end, it was what they needed the least._

_She hardened their souls, that they may no longer wreak havoc on Mankind._

_She cursed them, that they may be enfeebled, and must take the soul of Man to regain their strength._

_She scattered them far and wide, that they may no longer conspire, left to the mercy of Man as they came out of the shadows to thrive once more._

_Thus, the song was lost._

_But to the few that remember, beware._

 

Flowey opened his eyes.

"Doesn't sound very familiar, doesn't it?" he said. "You can try to read every single book out here, but you won't find anything about this legend. Believe me, I looked."

Sans averted his gaze momentarily to sift through his memories. There were a number of books about monster history, but neither volume delved any deeper from the general narrative. They always seemed a bit too simple to provoke a thoughtful question. For a legend, this sounded too sophisticated for Flowey to pull out of nowhere on the spot.

But he still hadn't answered the question.

"Now, how do I know this particular legend, exactly? Well, that's simple. First, the legend is a royal family secret."

"Second..." the flower paused, before shifting his face into the form of a young monster. The shape of his eyes and nose almost resembled Toriel's.

"Remember when the king and queen had a child once?"

Sans's eyes widened slightly. It seemed too good to be true.

"you're... tori's kid?" after a momentary lapse, Sans remained skeptical. "no, that's impossible. he died a long time ago."

"Well, I don't expect you to believe me now." the flower said, sighing dejectedly. "Looking like this, of course nothing I say is gonna sound believable." he paused again, his expression seemingly hopeless.

"But despite all that, you have to trust me when I said I can help you. The legend I just mentioned spoke of the power of song. That very power is inscribed in that book over there."

Sans's gaze followed Flowey's towards the glossy purple hymnal.

"Hymmnos. Hymmnos is the key." Flowey reiterated, desperate to make the connection. "You need my help because I can use that power, and in your notes, you mentioned something resembling that power."

"In your notes, you mentioned something called a resonance. When you did that experiment with the test tubes and how that human soul piece reacted, you said that reaction was called a resonance."

The flower certainly did his homework. Sans did recall reading that passage about the experiment.

"Hymmnos uses the exact same concepts that you observed then." Flowey continued to explain. "The songs within this hymnal were made specifically to harness the different properties of resonance, each song producing different results. I don't know how yet, exactly, but you probably do."

Sans blinked, trying to take in what the flower just said. As he'd listened to him explain everything up until this point, there was a distinct lack of the usual malice that usually came with his voice. Without realizing it, the flower's guard had come off, and it was as if he was instead listening to a rather inquisitive and observant child explain things to him.

It almost reminded him of himself, having used those same smarts in order to fend for himself and his brother. Poignantly, it wasn't much of a childhood.

But it was still hard to believe anything he had to say.

"I have a feeling that we're both after the same thing. You have your reasons related to these notes, and I have mine. We can help each other! I think..."

"I think I can convince you if I could just show you what I mean."

"then show me." Sans said.

The flower hesitated.

"A-about that..." Flowey stammered. "Y-you see..."

"well?" the skeleton stared down the flower intently, as if to catch wind of something unsavory.

Flowey bit a lip. The ever-flickering lights suddenly became foreboding to him.

"You need a soul to use Hymmnos." the words came out almost all at once as soon as he opened his mouth. "Otherwise, it's just gibberish nonsense."

Another bombshell, dropped.

"there we go." Sans's voice confirmed his suspicions. It almost sounded like an accusation. "so it's out of the bag then. i see where you're trying to go with this." he followed with a trace of a grin as he spoke.

"N-no!" Flowey shouted immediately after in defense. "No! No, you got it all wrong!" he wasn't sure what he was feeling previously. He hadn't really paid attention to it as he tried to explain everything to Sans, but whatever it was, it was starting to develop into a fear.

A debilitating fear of rejection.

"if all i need to use this power is a soul, then what stops me from learning it on my own?" a new wall between the skeleton and the flower was being rebuilt.

"A-are you stupid?!" even though Flowey was screaming, it was more desperate than angry. "I just told you! In case I have to spell it out for you, Hymmnos isn't innate! It was a long time ago, but now only very few people know it. That's why it's a secret sect! It takes many, many, many years to master it! Heck, even before I died, I was only a third of the way there! It's not that simple!"

Flowey exhaled. Before Sans could get a word in, he immediately took another breath.

"God! Why am I even trying?! I'm trying so hard to get through you, but it looks to me like nothing I'll say will ever be believable to you!" Flowey's head jerked violently as he shouted. Overwhelmed with emotion, he'd forgotten about the guillotine of bones that was surrounding him. "I said I wasn't gonna kill you. I pour my heart out and tell you what there is to know about me. I even gave you food, for crying out loud! Isn't that enough for you to trust me just a little?! Why are you so freaking stubborn?!"

Sans didn't budge. Flowey gritted his teeth, staggering his breath.

"I know what I did back then. I had a long time to think about it when everyone finally left. I know I can never be forgiven for what I've done. For the longest time, after Frisk showed me what it meant to be merciful, I wanted so, so badly to turn over a new leaf. It'd taken them a long time to realize it too, but like I said, they've finally closed this story for good. Shouldn't that mean the same for us too?"

"There's no reason for us to hurt each other anymore... so, can we put the knives down now; for real this time?"

Flowey's pleading voice echoed, and there was silence once again.

Sans's expression changed. Flowey watch as he saw his scowl fade softly. His furrowed eye sockets disappeared, and instead drooped slightly. His pupils darted away, off to the side. He blinked slowly, as if in deep thought, tossing the mushy half-eaten crab apple behind him into a pile of cores.

If he had a word to guess what Sans was feeling right now, remorse might not be far.

"y'know..." Sans finally said something, but his gaze remained averted. "in some respects, me doing this to you, i realized i'm no different from you at all. we've hurt each other a lot through the loops, so... me taking the moral high ground like this is nothing short of hypocritical."

"you're right. there's no reason for us to hurt each other anymore."

The bone guillotine retracted into the floor, no longer an immediate threat.

"i wanted to believe you." Sans began. "there was no reason for me to believe everything you've said up until now was pulled out of your ass." slowly, his gaze returned to Flowey. "all this stuff you've said so far checked out, but to be honest, i wasn't thinking straight. i kept trying to dig for some kinda ulterior motive from you."

He took a long breath.

"if you really are asriel dreemurr, i gotta admit that's one hell of a bombshell if i ever had to hear one. tori rarely ever talks about it, but i bet she thinks about you a lot. at least, now that frisk's with her."

"I know." Flowey's nodded longingly. "I miss her too."

"i'm guessing that explained the change in attitude when you had me tied up back there?"

After a pause, Flowey nodded reluctantly.

"I messed up back there. I just wanted to save you from doing what you did." he tried to explain. "I wanted a playmate, but then you brought all this with you..." he gestured to the files on the floor. "And it reminded me. It reminded me of all the stuff I forgot a long time ago, and you know... I missed it. I missed it all... Mom, Dad, Chara... Teatime and butterscotch-cinnamon pie..." the flower gritted his teeth in an attempt to compose himself.

"And love: the one thing that's scarce here now that all the monsters are gone."

Sans hesitated for a while, but then shuffled on his feet. He piled up the Faith files together and placed them on the counter.

With his back to the flower. He spoke once again.

"i'm not ready to forgive you. but i think we can work together."

Flowey sniffled. Steeling himself, his boss monster face melted away, back to his original, featureless eyes and mouth.

"That's ok." he said, with practiced cheerfulness. "It's better to start somewhere than never at all."

Taking out a new folder from one of the cabinets, he placed everything inside, folding the whole bundle shut. He turned to face the flower once again, forcing a grin amidst tired-looking eyes.

"tell me something first." Sans inquired. "if you're going to help me, what are you hoping to accomplish?"

"from now on, i want us to be transparent, if we're going to work together."

Flowey considered his question carefully.

"I... I just wanna be able to sing again. That's it."

**Author's Note:**

> alternative title: Sans Tries Musical Therapy
> 
> A plot bunny to rise myself out of a very long hiatus. After discovering Undertale (and going through old game OSTs in my library), my muse had reawakened and I feel like trying my hand at starting and finishing another work. This one has a slow buildup and is fairly long, so expect each chapter to take a while to digest.
> 
> SansyBones posted a similar concept and idea and I felt coerced into publishing this work to follow along with an alternative resolution route. I hoped to publish after finishing the first 3 chapters, but oh well...: http://sansybones.tumblr.com/post/140997556758/rehab-cabin
> 
> I'm still looking for a beta-reader, or a proofreader who has strong points in plot structure, character development, pacing, and dialogue. If you're interested in connecting, please don't hesitate to contact me here.


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